A Shadow on the Water
by StarFormerAdira
Summary: A tyrant has risen from the seas, and his influence is spreading across the globe. Alfred Jones, captain of the WNO Freedom , is sent to pursue and capture, but there's more to these pirates than he originally thought. USUK
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Guess who's back and raring to go! That's right - I have an entirely new fic ready, eleven chapters, all done and dusted, and I'll be posting them one after the other with...three, four day interval? Depending on if I'm busy or not. Thanks to everyone who reviewed on my _other _stories, I hope you like this one just as much. :D**

* * *

**Chapter One**

Ever since his first outing on a boat, and the first time his dad had taken him to see a real ship, and his school tour to the Museum of Sailing in his local town, Alfred Jones had known he wanted to be in the World Naval Organisation.

The WNO spanned the entire globe, and it ruled the seas. And since Earth was more water than land, that was quite a lot to rule over. The WNO had been formed ages ago, when two nations had decided to unite and prepare for the upcoming industrial revolution by getting a head start in the newest technologies. The first fully-formed sailing ship, named, quite aptly, the _New World_ was created a few decades after, and the first battle-ready ship, the _Destroyer, _followed suit after a breakthrough in weapons development. The other nations, seeing how the two had prospered and how far they had come in such a short amount of time, decided to pool their resources and join forces, eventually to be named the World Naval Organisation. The entire population of the planet turned their thoughts to the bodies of water that surrounded their land, and how they might tame them, and control them, and eventually reign over them.

However, there are exceptions to every rule, and not long after the first WNO ships were commissioned, pirates took to the seas. Pirates from every country, who resented this sudden change in decree and wanted the old life back, where there were tensions between countries and nobody had been '_brainwashed by this so-called organisation, which was nothing more than a swollen sailing club'_.

At least, that was how they put it, and nobody was prepared to listen to them, partly because the WNO was such a success. The pirates, being stubborn by nature, weren't about to give up, but as the WNO gradually increased in size and stature, many decided to just give up and turn their talents to better, more legal uses. However, a few remained, travelling the waters in ships they'd either built themselves or stolen from WNO shipyards, and generally just doing what pirates do: looting, pillaging, stealing and trying to make a point.

The pirate threat had died down in the years preceding Alfred's birth, so much so that people no longer feared taking to the seas in a vulnerable vessel. The WNO had stamped out all of the rebellions the pirates had managed to stir up, insisting that the organisation had been formed for the good of all humanity. It was a cheesy gesture, but good of them, all the same.

Alfred's father had been captain of his very own ship, the _WNO Reliant. _He was away for months at a time, occasionally years, but every time he returned, he would bring back beautiful gifts and lavish treats from the far-off countries he'd visited. These things would dazzle the young Alfred and placate his mother, so much so that she would consent to seeing her husband off again, on one more of his perilous missions.

One time when his father was recovering from a bout of influenza that had spread about the _Reliant, _he took Alfred down to see her. She'd stood in the dock, her sails flapping in the breeze, and Mr Jones had talked about her with such awe and affection that Alfred had immediately felt an attraction towards the vessel, and to the open sea. If his father described it like that, and if the places from which he brought the gifts were as exotic as he said, then Alfred wanted to go see them, and Mr Jones was more than happy to encourage his young son to follow in his footsteps.

One day, he had sailed off into the sunset, and he hadn't come back. His mother had been told by the WNO authorities that he had died as his ship went down, in a raid by the pirates of the East. Alfred had been young, but not young enough so that he didn't understand. After his mother had explained, he'd rushed up to his room and spent two days in there, staring at the wall and rocking back and forth, sorting through all the memories he had of his father and storing them carefully away, so that he would not forget.

Two months later, his mother gave birth to his younger brother, a boy called Matthew who looked almost exactly like Alfred himself, except he had rounder, softer features, and violet eyes to contrast with Alfred's blue. His mother would straighten the glasses on their noses and smile, saying that they could've been twins.

Matthew would never know his father, but Alfred stayed up past his bedtime telling him stories, making sure his brother would know what sometimes made his mother cry at night, and why Alfred himself would occasionally retreat into himself and not say a word for hours on end. He had been getting better, though. The arrival of Matthew had really perked him up, and he was almost the same bouncy, cheerful boy he'd been before his father's death. Another difference between the two siblings was Matthew's own personality – he was much quiet, and softly-spoken, and sometimes Alfred didn't even notice him when he walked into a room. The two boys loved each other, though, as much as close relatives can.

Matthew often joined in Alfred's daydreams about his own ship. Although the younger wasn't as convinced that he wanted to join the WNO as Alfred was – there were still plenty of independent enterprises that were flourishing – Alfred's attitude about it was infectious and soon Matthew found himself dreaming of his own ship, sailing through calm, clear waters with an entire crew at his beck and call.

When Alfred was 16, he entered the WNO Training Academy. He would've dragged Matthew in too, despite him being underage, but his mother expressively forbid it, and kept Matthew at home with her. The two of them watched as Alfred came home every night, each evening seeing him grow taller and more muscular and even more certain of his role to play in the world. He had completely recovered from the traumatic experience of his father's death, and he would eagerly recount stories of ex-captains who had come in and, at the request of the trainees, told harrowing tales of things they had encountered on the high seas. Nothing would've made Alfred prouder than to have his own father come in and talk to his classmates, but it was obvious that it wasn't going to happen.

By the time Matthew turned 16 and joined the Academy, Alfred had already been assigned to his first ship. He was bright and ambitious, but even the cleverest have to start at the bottom, so he bade farewell to his mother and his younger sibling, and boarded the _WNO Dancer_ with barely contained excitement. Mrs Jones, who had seen her husband perish at the hands of the sea, wisely kept her concerns to herself, as nothing could've persuaded Alfred to get off the ship and return home with her, but it kept her awake at night, wondering if he was okay and if he was even still alive. Sometimes Matthew would crawl into bed with her, as old as he was, and they would comfort each other together. But Alfred was determined that his fate wouldn't be to drown and to lie forever on the ocean bed. Every voyage he went on, he returned, and he grew up even more.

Matthew also did well at the Academy. Alfred had shown an talent for every single subject, but Matthew excelled in Ship Repairs – something that he was mightily pleased with, since it meant he could stay with his mother and still participate in WNO activities. Alfred was disappointed when the message finally came through, since it meant he and his brother couldn't serve together on the same ship, and have all the fun they'd imagined when they were younger, but Matthew assured him it was better this way. He joked that they could still work together – Matthew could make the ship, and Alfred could sail it.

It took years, seven to be exact, but Alfred finally rose to through the ranks, through officer and lieutenant and sub-lieutenant and lieutenant-commander and commander, until he finally arrived at captain. He was given the highest honour in the fleet, for all his commendable years of service and his distinguished medals – to command the WNO's newest flagship, the fastest and most battle-hardy to come off the assembly line: the _WNO Freedom. _

* * *

It was a beautiful day, full of wind and sun and the salty tang of the sea. The port was alive and bustling with activity, from street vendors to simple sightseers. The coastal town of Meryid was not the cleanest, nor the most prosperous along the Western shore, but it was a hell of a fun place to be, and they did offer good entertainment. In the _Freedom_'s patrol along the country of Altiana, one of the biggest in the world, there were many places to stop and check in with WNO liaisons. Even though the WNO Headquarters was up in Altiana's capital city, Striga, they had buildings all around the globe. Altiana had just been the original of the two countries that had formed the alliance, the other lying across the huge expanse of water that was the Great Western Ocean, for want of a more creative name. Alfred felt lucky to have grown up in the WNO capital of the world, where the Academy training was no doubt more thorough than in any other place. While tensions had been dissolved, the old, familiar rivalry between nations remained, and each competed for the top spot in the WNO relations table. Altiana had occupied slot number 1 for twelve years running.

Alfred, though, wasn't feeling particularly happy today. He'd been captain of the _Freedom _for a grand total of a year and a half, and nearly all of that had been spent doing patrols around Altiana, protecting coastal inlets from pirate raids, which never even happened anyway. He would've complained to his superiors, had he not been afraid they would remove him from command.

"I help people, Alfred," his father had told him when they'd gone to see the _Reliant_. "Me and my crew, we're heroes. And you can be a hero too."

Alfred wanted to be a hero. He wanted to live up to his father's name, but he wasn't able to do that when there weren't any damn pirates around to fight. He'd considered, more than once, quitting the WNO and buying his own ship with the compensation money he'd earned, and going after pirates by himself, but the WNO and the _Freedom _was his dream, and it had come true. It wasn't his place to complain, when the rest of the Western fleet was probably as antsy as he was.

Alfred slumped back in his chair and ran his fingers through his blonde hair. The report he was writing wouldn't finish itself, and yet he couldn't force himself to do anymore. That was the _bad _part about being captain – from running into pirates to rescuing a lost fishing boat, you had to do a report on everything that happened on the ship. Alfred's only consolation was that his first and second in command had to do reports as well, so at least he wasn't alone in the matter.

The WNO uniform was, by no means, uncomfortable, but he had discarded most of it in favour of the warm weather. His waistcoat was hanging open, the collar of his shirt was undone and his coat was slung over the berth in the corner, along with his hat and the gloves. The windows of his cabin were open as far as they would go, and the happy sounds of normal life drifted in on the breeze as the ship rocked gently in the water.

They had stopped at Meryid for another reason – there were increasing stories of strange ships, definitely not WNO, being seen on the horizon, before they vanished without another trace. Alfred would've just declared it hallucinations, from bored and sleepy villagers, and dismissed the whole thing, but the higher-ups were apparently taking it seriously. Alfred had foisted the task of interviewing the eyewitnesses to a few of his officers while he wrote up the list of supplies they were taking on from the WNO building, except it _just wasn't getting done_. What was the point of writing a report that nobody was ever going to read?

He scoffed and laid the pen down, taking off his glasses to absent-mindedly polish them on the hem of his white shirt. The inkwell was running dry, too, he should go and buy one. There, that was a perfectly reasonable excuse to go outside and take a walk, stretch his legs, get some fresh air before retiring to the stuffy cabin again. They were only going to be in Meryid a day and a night. No-one was going to judge him if he just took a break...

With this positive encouragement in his mind, Alfred got up and shrugged on his coat, buttoning up his waistcoat but not bothering with the collar of his shirt. There weren't particularly strict regulations about uniform, only that you had to wear one which signified your rank, and Alfred didn't have any problem with that. He'd wanted to wear a captain's uniform for ages. The crew all had the same sort of design, but with different colours – Alfred's coat was blue (like the sea, he had once thought proudly), his first-in-command's was red, his second's was black and everyone else's was a gold-yellow. The only real enforced rule about uniform was that you always had to wear your coat whenever you went out, so people wouldn't mistake you for someone lower than you actually were and treat you with disrespect. Stingy as the WNO might be, they certainly protected their officers.

Just as Alfred was about to open the door, there came a soft knock on the wood. He drew back and took a breath, collecting himself, before he opened it to the slim, lounging figure of his first officer, one Commander Francis Bonnefoy.

Hailing from the Southern country of Esmilia, a place famed for its good food and beautiful women, Francis was a little...annoying, to say the least. He was a good officer, and a fantastic chef, although he had abandoned these duties in favour as serving as the ship's doctor. Alfred, in his own defence, hadn't named him as First Officer, his superiors had done that, after Francis had made a name for himself serving onboard the _WNO Clairvoyant_ and the Generals had decided to place him on the flagship. Most of the time, Francis was bearable, and he gave way to authority, which meant he complied when Alfred told him to shut up, but it didn't stop him chasing after women and telling lewd stories when he wasn't on duty.

Francis, which was typical of him, managed to make his uniform a fashion statement instead of something announcing his rank. The waistcoat was a size smaller than his normal measurements, which made sure that it pulled his white shirt tight around his waist. The red coat fell past his thighs and brushed against the back of his knees, where his perfectly shined boots took up where it had left off. Alfred had often questioned the height of those heels, but Francis had, in turn, always reassured him that they were perfectly fine, and he wasn't breaking any regulations. Off-duty, however, Francis probably couldn't make the same claim.

For all his many faults, Francis wasn't bad looking. He had shoulder-length blonde hair, which was lighter in colour than Alfred's, and the same sapphire eyes, although his were often narrowed in sly intent. He seemed to wear a permanent smirk, and his throaty voice, tinged with the accent of his homeland, seemed to grate on the nerves of most of the officers.

He was a friend, though, when he wasn't being insufferable.

At the moment, as he leaned against the corridor walls outside the captain's cabin, he was holding an envelope in his hand, while the other was still raised after the knock. He looked wholly unconcerned, but snapped to attention when Alfred opened the door.

"Captain," he greeted the other man with a suggestive smile. "Telegram for you from Headquarters. I was in the office and saw it was addressed to you, so I thought I'd pick it up and bring it back."

Alfred took the envelope, noticing the stamp beside his name: URGENT. He looked back up at his First.

"Thanks, Francis. Having a good time?" he asked, turning but leaving the door open, an invitation for Francis to follow, which he did. Alfred reached out and grabbed a knife from his desk, sliding it underneath the fold of paper and slitting it open cleanly.

Francis hovered by the desk. "Oh, yes. Met up with a few of my friends from the old days."

"Were these friends female, by any chance?" Alfred inquired vacantly, his eyes scanning the lines of text on the paper. On the top, there was the mark of the WNO – a black-and-white image of a ship, with the words 'World Naval Organisation' surrounding a compass underneath the vessel.

Francis held up his hands in mock surrender. "You caught me. It's good to have contacts in these coastal towns, you know that."

"Contacts? For what?" Alfred answered bitterly. Francis was perfectly aware of his feelings on this subject – he had expressed doubt himself that there was really any need for a flagship when it didn't do anything. He was, however, more interested in the letter.

After finishing it, Alfred handed it silently to the other man, who took it and studied it with a trained eye. When he was done, he looked up in confusion, and Alfred just shrugged at his expression.

"Return to Striga? Why?" he asked anyway.

"Who knows." Alfred turned away and rubbed the back of his neck, a habit of his that both he and Matthew shared. "Maybe they want to promote me again. God knows I'm not doing any good out here."

He collapsed in his chair. Francis was re-reading the letter. "But it says immediately. Does that mean we have to leave right away?"

Alfred nodded. "Yeah, sorry. I know everybody wanted to spend more time here, and I wanted to get out too, believe me, but when the higher-ups summon you..." He spread his hands helplessly, and Francis returned the sheet of paper.

"I'll tell everyone," he offered.

"Thanks," Alfred replied, and watched his First leave. He couldn't imagine what had come up that made the Generals need the flagship back at Headquarters, but it must be something pretty important.

The Generals were representatives from every country that was part of the WNO, which, by now, was about 95% of them. They were also experienced, having served on ships most of their lives, and then having been elevated to the status of General. All together, they formed the Council, which was a clichéd name but it made sense. All in all, there were fifteen countries that formed the Council of the WNO, the only exception being the Republic of Stráin, which used to be one but had abandoned its membership when it was faced with bankruptcy and could no longer go on paying for training of sailors and the construction of ships. Stráin was now a country unto itself, where its people had reverted back to the original lifestyle, in case another debt threatened to destroy its society. However, it still made deals with the WNO, trading certain food native to the island for transport for immigrant and help if a more natural disaster loomed.

Alfred had only seen all of the Generals gathered in one place once before, when they had awarded him his captaincy and the right to command the _Freedom. _It was quite a sight, seeing the leaders of the world gathered all in one place, and with all their attention focused on you, but Alfred wasn't easily put down. Despite their names and their meetings, which were shrouded in mystery, the Generals were actually really nice people, who had congratulated him after the ceremony and wished him the best. Whatever ill feelings Alfred had towards the WNO, they were not aimed at the Generals.

The letter they had sent had been exasperatingly vague, with references to disturbed WNO buildings and mounting eyewitness reports. The one conclusive thing written down, however, had been the summons to Striga and, therefore, the WNO Headquarters for an emergency meeting with the Council. Judging by the tone and the words used, Alfred could conclude that he wasn't in trouble, but there was nothing else he _could _draw from it.

Meryid was just down the shoreline from Striga – it made sense that Striga, as well as being Altiana's capital city, would be near the water. Alfred calculated, taking into consideration the wind and the tide, that they could be at Striga in half a day. And since this meeting seemed to call only for him, he could give his crew some free time to spend in the metropolis.

He returned his shirt back to its formal state, tugging uncomfortably at the stiff collar, before leaving his cabin and shutting the door firmly behind him. Francis had managed to spread the word already, and a steady stream of officers was trickling on board, to return souvenirs back to their bunks and then to hasten to their stations.

Alfred stood by the wheel, watching the sails flap idly in the breeze. Every sailor that passed him offered up a salute, and he returned it readily enough. Most of the men he knew by name, and there were only a few he didn't: there was Lieutenant Roderich Edelstein, the ship's unofficial musician, and his wife, Lieutenant Elizaveta Héderváry, a beautiful but tough woman. The WNO had never been against women serving onboard the ships, but it had been frowned upon until very recently, mainly because everyone still thought the role of the women was to stay at home and wait for the men to return. However, Elizaveta was a living legend – she had disguised herself as a man and joined the same ship as her husband, the _WNO Union_, where she had remained in the trousers and oversized shirt and the short hair until, eventually, someone had found out. Despite Roderich's protection, when a boat full of men started to suspect something, they were sure to find out, and she was brought before the captain. Instead of placing her and her spouse in the brig and returning to Striga for court-martial, the captain admired her determination and allowed her to continue serving on the _Union_, until word reached the Generals and they were told to return to Headquarters. They, however, had reached the same conclusion that the _Union_'s captain had – Elizaveta was a shining model of women and there were more pros than cons of allowing them to be recruited in the WNO. Elizaveta and Roderich had been transferred over to the flagship not a few years later.

Then there was Alfred's second-in-command, Lieutenant-Commander Ludwig Beilschmidt, a tall, strong, muscular man who had more than proved his worth in the Battle of Morga, when he had taken down five pirate vessels with just one ship, which he had relieved from its previous captain on the basis that he was a 'yellow-bellied coward'. He had a companion, a small, bouncy man called Sub-Lieutenant Feliciano Vargas, who had a strange attachment to both pasta and his blonde-haired friend. This pair was of special interest to the WNO Generals, since both Feliciano's and Ludwig's brothers had run off to join the pirates when their siblings were still in the Academy. Because of this, the two on the _Freedom_ had formed a very close bond, and one was rarely seen without the other. They had also taken a liking to a small, quietly-spoken foreigner called Master Honda Kiku, from the Eastern country Fristorm, forming the strangest threesome Alfred had ever seen. And last, but not least, there was the _Freedom_'s Gunner, Vash Zwingli, who had a reputation as the best marksman in the world, and the swordsman, Weapons Chief Wang Yao, who came from round about the same place as Honda, and was like a ninja with a blade, and hordes of others, all with their own special area of expertise.

Only the best were allowed to serve on the _Freedom_, and only the _very_ best was allowed to captain it.

As Alfred watched, something like pride swelling deep in his chest, Ludwig whispered something in Feliciano's ear and watched the other go bounding off like the happy-go-lucky person he was before leaping up the stairs and standing to attention by Alfred's elbow.

"Sir!" he thundered, making Alfred jump and clutch at his heart.

"Geez, Ludwig, calm down," the captain joked.

"My apologies, sir," Ludwig replied, not looking the least bit sorry. "Commander Bonnefoy was slightly vague, sir, in explaining the details when he found me. Is it true we are returning to Striga, sir?"

Alfred nodded. "Yes, Lieutenant-Commander, it is. The Generals have requested a private meeting with me, so it's nothing you need to worry about. I'll give you some time off when we get there, and you'll be able to make up for what you lost in Meryid. For now, let's get the ship underway."

"Yes, sir!" Ludwig saluted again and hurried off, shouting orders as he went. Officers scurried up the masts and unfurled the sails, letting them catch in the breeze, while others pulled up the anchor and the ropes that connected the _Freedom _to the dock. The last aboard was Francis, who swung himself up, limber as a monkey, and landed with two feet solid on the deck, prompting awed whispers from his audience and an eye-roll from Alfred.

"Everyone onboard, Commander?" he shouted from beside the wheel. Francis looked up at him and nodded.

"I believe I found everyone, Captain!" he called back.

"Then the ship is yours, Francis, until we reach Striga. I have some reports I need to complete down in my cabin," Alfred explained, and he turned, fully set on going down to his quarters and finishing the paper as soon as he could, but something stopped him. Approaching the stern of the ship, the wind ruffling his hair and making his eyes smart, he leant over the railings and stared down at the foamy, churning water. The _Freedom_ was pulling away from the Meryid dock now, to various watchers down below in the crowd that made up the market. It was a truly impressive ship, the wood polished to a fine gleam, the sails as bright as snowy white could be, and little gold trimmings along the front, side and back. Alfred knew that he had arrived at the high-point in his career, and he couldn't possibly wish for anything to change.

A slim hand landed on his shoulder, and he jerked away, knowing who it was and not giving them a chance to explore any further. "The reports, sir?" Francis asked, sounding amused.

Alfred stuck his tongue at him, and disappeared below deck.

* * *

**I made a map, which I think you'll need for the next few chapters, as it might get a bit confusing, so I posted that on my deviantART account if you wanna go have a look. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who followed and favourited, tis much appreciated :D And I'll take a moment to say that I don't own Hetalia, or any of the characters I'm using. Enjoy the latest installment~**

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**Chapter Two**

Striga, as well as being a capital city, was the most famous in the world, mainly for the beautiful weather and the friendly people. The streets were wide and clean, and the buildings shone in the sunlight. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like some futuristic city, except it was here, now, and the most wonderful thing Alfred had ever seen.

Even down at the harbour, where the salt water lapped at the wooden planks and there was an ever-present stench of fish and seaweed, the atmosphere was cheerful and happy, with everyone smiling and eager to help. The marketplace in the centre of town was a lot cheaper and the things you could buy there were a lot more resilient than down by the docks, but people had decided to set up little shops anyway, mostly selling delicacies from other lands to the hungry and deprived sailors who were just getting off their ships.

Being the home to the WNO Headquarters, Striga saw its fair share of ships coming in and out of the port every day, but the _Freedom _was immediately recognized as being different. It was bigger than most ships – towering over the small fishing boats and eclipsing even the WNO vessels that were still waiting in the harbour. A hush came over the waiting crowd as the WNO's flagship was slowly but cleanly manoeuvred into place, and the ropes came down, landing in the hands of eager young workers who were hoping for a tip from the sailors disembarking.

Francis had already briefed the crew – delicately – on what was going on, and they were mostly happy to be given a few hours to sightsee or catch up with old friends in the heart of the city. As soon as the gangplank came down, everybody was off, fingering money in their pockets or trying to find a good restaurant. Only Francis, Ludwig (and therefore, Feliciano) hung back with Alfred, surveying the huge metropolis with their captain.

It had taken a little longer than half a day to travel from Meryid, and evening was just falling, the bright blue of the sky giving way to a darker navy. The wind was cooler, and people were already beginning to venture back into their homes, their journeys being lighted by the lanterns that graced the streets at appropriate intervals.

Alfred turned to the other three. "Don't worry about booking into a hotel, we might be off early in the morning, so just sleep on the ship – let's say, a meeting in the morning, alright? I'll see you later."

Francis and Ludwig nodded in assent, and made their way down the gangplank, Feliciano in tow and burbling happily about a pasta place he'd visited last time. Alfred watched them go, before placing his hat firmly on his head, tightening his belt, and walking smartly down the wooden plank to step onto the dock.

It was nice to be back in Striga – there was something familiar and comforting about the mood here. Perhaps it was the assured safety of all WNO members, or maybe the friendliness of the local people. Whatever it was, Alfred was glad for it, and it soothed his nervous stomach at being called in front of the Council.

He had barely taken two steps when a small, dark-haired teenager bounded forwards, dressed sombrely in WNO attire and trying to stand as straight as he could. He studied Alfred for a minute, and then decided to speak up.

"Captain Jones?" His voice was high and pompous, indicating that he thought more of his position than he should. If Alfred was anybody else, he would've taken a disliking to the boy immediately, but Alfred was naturally sociable by nature, so he smiled in response.

"Yep, that's me!" he replied. The boy looked disarmed at his cheerful reply.

"Uh..." he stuttered. "I have transport for you, to take you to the WNO Headquarters." He turned and began walking towards a pair of tall, white stallions, hitched to a sleek, black carriage with the symbol of the WNO embossed on the doors. The horses snorted and tossed their manes, strong neck muscles flexing. The boy calmed the pair with a few softly-spoken words, and reached across to open the door for Alfred.

The interior of the carriage was cool and tastefully decorated, the dark colours keeping in tradition with the black paint outside. As soon as Alfred was inside and settled, the boy got in up front, taking the reins in his hand and expertly flicking them twice. The horses began moving, the wheels of the carriage bumping awkwardly over the cobblestones of the street before they gave way to smooth stone, a sign that they were moving deeper into the city.

Alfred peered eagerly out of the window as they moved. He'd been to Striga many times, and kept an eye out for familiar places – the hamburger restaurant, the bar owned by his brother's friend, a dark-skinned man who didn't like Alfred very much, and the boutique run by Elizaveta's friend, Bella, and the street that his mother had taken him to on their first trip to Striga.

Nostalgic memories flooded back to Alfred, and he was going to sit back and try to sort through them, when a beautiful sight rose to his eyes.

The WNO Headquarters building dominated Striga's horizon. A huge structure made up entirely of white marble, the Headquarters was, by far, the most impressive piece of architecture Alfred had ever seen. It was surrounded by extensive grounds, with little winding paths and many gardens, where the Generals and the staff could take a walk on their breaks. As the boy steered the carriage towards the main entrance, Alfred caught sight of a few captains, men and women he knew only by face and rank. The dark-faced, black-haired woman who he'd chatted to at his ceremony, and that guy who had congratulated him, the one who was a distant relative of Yao's. It was good to see them all again – it made the world feel like nothing had changed, and that this meeting wasn't going to be anything out of the ordinary, it was just a quick check-up to see how the flagship was doing.

The carriage pulled to a stop, and the boy jumped down to open the door for Alfred. The Headquarters loomed up in front of him, blocking out the setting sun and giving out an aura of majesty. The double glass doors were propped open, inviting him in, and Alfred accepted the invitation without a second's hesitation. Tossing a wave over his shoulder to the boy, he entered the reception area, a broad smile on his face at being back.

The receptionist looked up as he approached – a pretty woman, and Alfred was glad Francis wasn't here. He offered her a grin, and she grinned back, fully responsive when she saw the captain's colours and the insignia on his uniform.

"Hello, there," he began.

"Hello, sir," she replied, a blush rising to her cheeks.

"I'm Captain Alfred Jones," he told her, putting some unsubtle emphasis on the 'captain'. "I'm here for a meeting with the Generals."

She glanced down, consulting the schedule on the sheet in front of her. "Alfred Jones...yes, sir, the meeting is just down that corridor, in room 2B."

She pointed it out, and he winked at her. "Thanks." Turning around, he set off down the corridor, his hands in his pockets, but as he walked, they slowly drew out and disappeared behind his back in a more formal gesture. He was sweating a little, and just before entering the plain wooden door marked '2B – Meeting Room', he had to wipe his palms on his trousers. Raising a fist, he knocked three times, resisting the urge to reach behind him and rub the back of his neck.

"Come in," a toneless voice ordered, and Alfred twisted the door handle and did just that.

The room was circular and big, the ceiling having been elevated beyond any normal requirements. The curtains were drawn, casting the occupants and the furniture into darkness. The Generals sat at a rounded table on the other end of the room, and even though the _room _was in shadow, they were not. As Alfred approached, he could pick out individual faces, and one old woman even smiled at him to let him know that everything was okay, he wasn't in trouble. He relaxed a bit after that.

A long, red carpet led up to four stairs, and the Generals were residing on the platform. Alfred took strong strides down the fabric, and, at the end, snapped to attention. The General in the middle of the table, who originated from Altiana, raised his hand in greeting.

"At ease, Captain Jones," he commanded, and Alfred complied.

The General of Altiana inclined his head. "And how is the WNO's flagship?"

"Everything's going perfectly, sir," Alfred told him, his tone quiet and respectful, which was a bit of a change from his normal demeanour. "Thank you for asking."

"We're sorry for the sudden summons, Captain," the General of Ortil picked up, "but as we understand, you had stopped in Meryid, so we hope the journey wasn't too strenuous."

Alfred shook his head. "Not at all, General."

"Good." The mood among the elder men and women changed subtly – the women shifted in their seats while the men clenched their fists together uneasily. The General of Altiana picked up a remote lying by his arm and pressed a button. Overhead, a projector flickered on, displaying a map of the world on the blank marble wall behind the Generals' table. Everyone in the room automatically turned to look at it, but the General of Altiana kept his eyes fixed on the young captain before him.

"Our letter was vague, and we apologise for that, but you will understand in a minute." His tone was grave. "Approximately a week or so ago, we got reports that a pirate ship was attacking the small coastal villages that allow WNO ships to dock there along the South-East of Esmilia. They were only a few eyewitnesses, so we were prepared to dismiss it as hallucinations and superstitions, but then the reports increased in number. We have cross-referenced the data within them and our conclusion is that there is one pirate ship making its way along the Eastern shoreline of Esmilia, looting and destroying any WNO-friendly towns it can find. We sent a message along to two ships who were stationed along the Northern Foltic ridge to investigate and, if this was indeed pirates, capture the ship and bring it back to Striga. We have not heard from them since they sent back the confirmation that they had received our message and were heading to Esmilia."

As the General had talked, small animations on the projector's map had helped aid his presentation. It showed the pathway that the pirate ship was taking in red dots, and the last known coordinates of the two WNO ships that had been ordered to engage it. The pirates were indeed sticking along Esmilia's coastline, almost hugging it, and every time they looted or pillaged a community, a small black cross popped up.

The General of Guardia picked up from where the General of Altiana had left off. "Meanwhile, as Esmilia was being attacked, confirmations of sighted pirate ships from the governments of Selkor, Ortil and Hecktonite came in, including the occasional raid on towns. I say 'occasional', but these pirates are growing bolder, taking more and attacking more. Since these assaults in the East happened at the same time as those in the South, we can only draw that two pirate ships have banded together and are working in harmony. Most of the fleet is on its way back to Striga as we speak, with the main objective of protecting the Headquarters and preserving the history. "

A new line of dots, this time in blue, marked the trail of the Eastern pirates. It curved around the outlines of Selkor and Ortil, which stuck out into the Southern Ocean, and just passed the border of Hecktonite when it stopped. Alfred assumed this was all the Generals knew so far.

The General of Esmeralda leant forwards in her chair. "We don't know how many pirate ships are operating. It could be just these two, or there could be an entire armada out there, nesting in the ocean and waiting for the perfect opportunity. If this is the case, we can't take any chances. The fleet will remain behind, in case there is an assault on Striga itself, and one ship will be sent out to stop the raiding on Esmilia. Our intelligence suggests that they are making their way up the shore to the major harbour, right on the border of Esmilia and Drakonia. If they manage to take out this port, then our hold on those two countries will be lost and they will become, no doubt, overrun with pirates."

Alfred took the chance to speak up, and stop the flow of information so he could process it completely. "Is there any description of these pirates?"

The General of Altiana nodded. "Yes. The Southern pirates, it has been reported, have a huge warship with black sails, and their crew is highly trained, while the Eastern pirates have violet sails. Their symbol is a hammer and sickle, so you will be able to pick it out clearly."

Alfred smiled wryly. "You're sending the _Freedom _to intercept."

There was a hint of steel in the General of Jamar's voice. "We are sending the flagship of the WNO to intercept, the only ship in our fleet that can possibly match these pirates for speed and weapons. Your performance, as well as that of your crew, has been exceptional throughout your years of service, and we feel it is time for you to _truly _contribute."

_There you are, Alfred,_ a small voice echoed in the back of his mind, _you did your waiting, and now you can fight pirates_! Unbidden, a small vein of infectious excitement wormed its way into his brain, tainting his thoughts with visions of swords clashing and muskets firing, and the pirate ship with the black sails splintering into wood.

"What about the Eastern pirates?" he asked, trying to keep the stiff exhilaration out of his voice. "Who is going to intercept them?"

The General of Selkor sighed. "Nobody," he admitted. "We are evacuating all coastal towns. If you are successful – _when _you are successful, my apologies – you will turn around and head for them. Once the news reaches their ears that you have destroyed their partners, they will not put up much of a struggle. Hopefully, they will retreat back into whatever dark lair they came from and stay there."

"For safety reasons, we cannot exchange letters while you are on this mission," the Ortilian General explained, a hint of regret in her voice. "Intelligence can be seized, and we have no idea where these pirates might have spies, if they even have spies at all. From the minute you sail out of this harbour, you are on your own." A twinkle entered her blue eyes. "But we have faith in you, Captain Jones."

A murmur of assent echoed around the table, and Alfred stood even straighter, his nose in the ear and determination making his movements jerky. "When I intercept this pirate ship, am I to destroy her?"

"No," the General of Altiana answered. "Capture the ship, and as much of the crew as you can, and tow her back to Striga alive. If you have to kill the crew, then make sure you rescue the Captain. We might be forced to detain him for...questioning."

The word carried multiple meanings, as well as the way the General said it, but Alfred didn't pay any attention. He was already looking ahead to the inevitable battle, to capturing the pirate captain and being hailed as a hero when he got home, and finally being able to live up to his father's legacy. His bright blue eyes were dancing, and he knew he shouldn't be this eager, but he was unable to repress it.

The General of Altiana stood, walking around the table until he was in front of Alfred, and he stuck out his hand, which Alfred took, somewhat confused at this casual contact. The General smiled. "Good luck, Captain. Don't let us down, now."

Alfred nodded. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

* * *

When he returned to the _Freedom_, he decided to keep the crew briefing for the morning. Many officers would probably be rather inebriated, not to mention that a few of them would be missing until the next day, off to visit families or even just having a good time. The WNO's flagship rocked back and forth in the harbour, adjusting to the currents from the open sea, and a lone light flickered in the captain's quarters.

Alfred had no idea how to get ready for this assignment. Anything could pop up, so he had better be prepared for everything, but how could you do that? His brain racing, he paced the cramped space, his boots coming down sharply on the wooden floor, but no sudden insight occurred to him. He had never even _seen _a proper pirate ship before, only the ones he'd pieced together in his imagination from the accounts he'd read. What if they were a lot bigger, and more powerful than the WNO had initially thought? What if they just laughed at Alfred and blew him, his crew and the _Freedom_ out of the water? Then he wouldn't have a reputation as a hero, he'd have one as a coward, and an idiot, and he would never make his mother and Matthew proud.

Alfred lay back on his berth and closed his eyes, running his fingers through his hair. He didn't need this, not now, not on the eve of his first real mission. He couldn't afford to think like that. He _could _beat these pirates, and he would! He'd come out of nowhere and give them the fight of their lives, and then he'd take them back to Striga and the Generals would congratulate him.

And with this thought in mind, he fell asleep, to frantic dreams of open sea and cannons spitting out fire.

* * *

It was obvious who was hung over in the morning, who had decided to take advantage of the short break. Ludwig, despite being a consummate professional, was looking haggard and had dark circles under his eyes, while Feliciano looked as healthy as ever and was murmuring about pasta under his breath. Alfred knew for a fact that the Gunner, Vash, had spent the night taking pot-shots at the seagulls that flew overhead, as he had been woken up more than once by the gun firing, and had eventually stormed out and ordered the younger man to go to bed. The others were either teetering on the edge of a bad headache or were freshly rested and eager to see what their captain had to say. Francis looked as immaculate as ever.

Alfred stood in front of the wheel, looking down at his crew, which was assembled on the main deck, looking up at him. His first- and second-in-command stood next to him – they had had the privilege of an earlier briefing, so they knew what was going on and were privy to more secretive information than Alfred could give to the other officers.

"So," the captain began, glancing down at each upturned face. "It's good to see we're all here. Now, we have a mission – and it's not just patrols along the border of Lementor." A chuckle ran through the group. "There is an increasing pirate threat along the Southern continents, and the Eastern ones as well." The humour quickly dissipated. "Pirate ships have been attacking and looting villages along the coastline, and they are making their way up to an important WNO harbour. The Generals sent two ships to intercept, but they haven't been heard from, so they are assuming that the pirate ship destroyed them." This wasn't the time for gentle facts and half-lies – this was the time for the harsh truth, and Alfred knew that every man or woman here could handle it. "So the flagship of the WNO, her pride and joy, our own _Freedom_, is being sent to catch, intercept and disable the pirates along the Southern Ocean. They have been moving up the shoreline of Esmilia, heading for the WNO port on the border of Drakonia, and it's our job to get there before they do." He offered the listening crew a confident smile. "Now, I have complete faith in all of you. We have a reputation to uphold, and I know that not one officer here is going to shirk away from his – or her – duty when the time comes. All you've got to do is remember your job, and what you were taught, and our sheer heroicness will take care of the rest." This was one of his tactics, to inspire buoyancy and assurance among the sailors, so that their own determination would get rid of any apprehension when the time came. The men, after this short speech, were already raring to go, jostling each other and generally trying to act tough. Elizaveta just glanced at them contemptuously, and returned her gaze to Alfred, who was trying to rein in his excitable crewmembers, but soon decided, to hell with that.

He raised his in the air. "So come on!" he roared, the sea breeze making his coat flap around his legs and the WNO flag on the mast to unfurl into the sky. "Let's go get those pirates!"

A resounding cheer of joyous assent was his answer, and he was secretly glad that they had reacted, otherwise he would've been left standing there like a fool. A few men rushed to the side of the ship, retracting the gangplank and pulling in the ropes that tied them to the dock, while others, without having to be given an order, scurried up the mast and let the sails loose. The rest immediately hurried to their stations, chattering excitedly about all the stories and rumours they'd ever heard about pirates and how they were going to be no match for the _Freedom_.

Alfred waited until the ship had been completely disconnected from the harbour, and then placed himself behind the wheel, his hands braced on the wooden surface. Normally, Francis or Ludwig would supervise this, but he felt it was only fitting. They were off on their first real mission! His soul soared into the sky, like a bird of prey, and with that, the _Freedom _turned away from Striga and headed out into the open sea.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Just got back from this party and I am EXHAUSTED - but I had enough energy to upload this next chapter, per a reader's request. :D I'm so glad you guys like this so far!**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Four days later, and the mood had slightly altered. To get the WNO harbour in Drakonia from Striga, which was known as Port Sharpe, it would take at least a week and four days. Luckily, though, the wind was with them, so they could shave that down to just one week, but the men were growing restless. Promised a mission strife with danger and fraught with excitement, being trapped onboard a ship with nothing to do but polish their swords and wait, they had become restless. Heavily exaggerated tales of pirates began circulating the ship, although some of the more practical officers managed to stop them in their tracks. The _Freedom_'s crew was the best around, but Alfred had promised them an adventure, and they were getting a little shifty waiting for it.

Alfred stayed in his cabin most of the time, studying maps of Drakonia and Port Sharpe, while researching various military tactics and studies on the behaviour on pirates, to see if he could try and predict their movements. He was unwilling to commit to any one plan, however, in case he was wrong and he had to devise another one quickly. It was best to keep all his options open. He also began making up manoeuvres and schemes, compensating for the mass of the pirate ship and the efficiency of their weapons each time around.

The _Freedom _was a vast ship, and it had more cannons onboard than any other WNO vessel, but there was another reason that it was prized above all others. The _Freedom _was the first to be commissioned with the newest weapon that the WNO had come up with, and Alfred's brother Matthew had had a minor part in. Cannons were all well and good, but reloading them was a bother, especially when another captain was firing on you, so after years of non-stop work, the WNO finally made the Rapid-Fire Cannon – an ingenious invention that only needed reloading every three shots. You placed three cannonballs a small compartment below the cannon, and an arm extended to place the cannonball in the long tube that made up the body. It did this three times before it required someone to reload and refill it with gunpowder. All you had to do was fire.

Gunner Vash Zwingli had been rather disgruntled with this new creation at first, saying he preferred the old-fashioned way, but after a few weeks practising, he was as adept with it as he was with one of his beloved pistols. He had trained a small group of marksmen already under his command to operate it, and, at Alfred's request, the WNO had placed five more Rapid-Fire Cannons on the _Freedom_, rounding the total up to six. It was the secret weapon against pirates, and Alfred was sure that whoever was leading this little rebellion didn't know about _these _beauties. The other vessel was no match for them, and he was confident that as long as they were handled correctly, there was no reason why they shouldn't succeed. He just had to make sure that he was using them properly.

Alright, yes, he w_as _nervous. Was there any reason why he shouldn't be? If he failed in this, it would be his fault that the pirates took Port Sharpe, and then the WNO would've lost their leeway in Drakonia and Esmilia. Port Sharpe was just too important.

Alfred buried his head in his hands and then picked up his pen again, determined to keep going.

* * *

The night they arrived in Port Sharpe, the weather was perfect. The sky was clear, the wind was blowing just right, and it was rather humid. Alfred let his coat hang open as he strode out onto the deck, everyone's eyes on him. He crossed to the bow of the ship and peered off into the distance, his hand on his telescope in case he needed to use it.

The countries of Drakonia and Esmilia were joined together, and they were so alike that it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. A huge, blocky landmass spread out to the _Freedom_'s left, also known as the country of Esmilia. They were close enough to pick out the individual towns, spread out along the coastline, where lights flickered and tiny figures ran around on the beach after hours. Drakonia was to the right, a slimmer shape that dipped down into the water and curved around in a smooth hooked shape. Port Sharpe was directly ahead, a perfectly formed circular inlet that the natives had built and built upon until it was one of Drakonia's major cities.

And it was already under attack.

The moon shone down upon the scene: pillars of fire rising from the inseparable blocks that were houses, and screams echoed around the night as the sound of stone crackling and falling accompanied the flames. Every few seconds, from somewhere in the middle of the inlet, a tiny puff of light would wink in and out of existence. Alfred brought his telescope up and focused it. It took a moment, but he finally saw the outline of a vast ship, its sails unfurled and moving with the breeze, sliding steadily along Port Sharpe's beaches. The WNO building, a stronghold for all intents and purposes, had cannons of their own, and as Alfred watched, they fired back at the ship, but the cannonball thudded harmlessly into the water and the barrage of firepower stopped, for a moment, as if the pirate crew were laughing, before the cannons turned and destroyed the WNO building, sending chunks of rock rolling down the hill, pulverizing everything in their path.

The cool destruction made Alfred sick to his stomach, and he turned. "Weapons at the ready!" he screamed. He'd already told the crew his plan, and to look out for more instructions if anything out of the ordinary happened. They responded immediately, drawing flashing swords and cocking pistols. Below deck, the cannons were ready and loaded, including the Rapid-Fire ones. Vash was doing some last-minute checking to dispel his anxiety.

The _Freedom _moved steadily forwards. Alfred's plan was thus: use the Rapid-Fire cannons to stun the enemy, and then pull up alongside them and board before they can regain their senses. He'd made sure that the ammo had been properly distributed amongst the crew. They were eager to get going, but he'd managed to calm them down, and now they were standing stock-still on the deck, fingers on triggers and hands clasped around sword handles.

As they drew even closer, Alfred could pick out more detail. He could see the silhouettes of people against the fire, running away from or even running towards the flaming structures. Desperate shrieks for help cut through the silence of the night. Alfred lowered the telescope, and gritted his teeth, red-hot anger twisting inside him.

The inlet was pretty big, and the pirate ship was directly opposite the entrance, still firing randomly upon the town. The WNO building was already gone, so Alfred couldn't expect any assistance from them, but he didn't need it.

As the wind and the current brought them through the narrow opening and into the bay beyond, a shout went up from the pirate ship. The sails were indeed black, hardly distinguishable from the dark land mass beyond, and the flag flapped in the breeze, the silver hammer and sickle imprinting itself in Alfred's mind before the smoke rising up behind the vessel floated in front of it.

The minute the alarm had been raised on the pirate ship that there was another coming in, they pushed off from the land, sailing around in the opposite direction from the _Freedom. _Alfred hurried from the bow to the side, keeping the familiar shape in sight the whole time. He angrily brushed his hair out of his eyes and wiped a smudge of dirt from his glasses, determined not to make a single error.

The pirate ship continued firing on the town as she went. She was fast, despite the meagre wind and the tide coming in, and by the time the _Freedom _had gotten a quarter of the way around the inlet, she was already poised by the thin entrance, debating to flee or fight.

"Captain..." Francis said warningly, a few metres behind him. Alfred knew that the pirate ship could disappear now, and leave Port Sharpe in ruins, but he knew they wouldn't do that. It was unlike pirates to just leave whenever another ship entered their territory. The other vessel was just getting some room for manoeuvring.

And, to his relief, he was right. The pirate craft paused, and then continued on, in an almost ironic game of Cat and Mouse. Alfred turned to whoever was at the wheel – it was Roderich, fighting to maintain perfect control.

"Mirror their actions!" Alfred shouted at him. "Keep us out of their reach!"

Roderich nodded, and the _Freedom _advanced along the beach, gaining more momentum with each passing moment. The scene irresistibly reminded Alfred of two sharks circling prey, except there was no prey and the two sharks were pitted against each other.

Using his telescope, he tried to get a closer look at their enemy. The moon illuminated his way and he fixated on the bow, trying to get a proper look, conscious that every moment he wasted was time for the pirates to reload, when – there.

The name, that's all he wanted. The name, in blocky, bold letters, inscribed along the side of the ship, next to the figurehead. It was a strange name, almost too gentle and delicate for a pirate vessel of its size and intent, but Alfred had never truly pretended to understand pirates.

They were playing a game of chess, and the _Freedom _and the _Queen Elizabeth _had reached a stalemate. Neither one was willing to take a risk and turn inwards, in case the other took the advantage and fired head-on, but they couldn't continue circling around the bay forever. Alfred put his telescope away. If his plan went well, he wouldn't need it to study the pirate ship further.

It was intensely quiet on the _Freedom_, so quiet that it pressed down on the captain's ears. Eyes flickered from him to Francis to their adversary across the rippling water. Alfred raised his hand in the air, a signal that Roderich immediately understood. He braced himself against the deck, his hands clenching at the wheel.

A few more seconds, just a few more, and – "NOW!" Alfred screamed, slicing his hand through the air. Roderich wrenched the wheel to one side, and the _Freedom _turned inwards, the _Queen Elizabeth _following suit. The two ships advanced towards one another, their sails out and billowing. The two cannons at the bow of the _Freedom _fired once, twice, and hit the _Queen Elizabeth _head-on, but it was at too close a range, and they did nothing to stop return fire splintering the wood and shattering glass. The entire ship rocked, but regained its equilibrium quickly, and not a moment too soon, for the _Freedom _inched to the right, while the _Queen Elizabeth _went to the left, and they passed within two inches of each other.

Alfred's crew knew what to do. Their pistols up and ready, they fired haphazardly on the deck, hoping for a lucky shot, while bullets flew from the other side and embedded themselves into the wooden sides or the floor. Meanwhile, below, Vash fired his cannon, starting a chain succession that went along the entire line. The Rapid-Fire cannons were saved for last, and they did their job well, sending three heavy cannonballs into the side of the _Queen Elizabeth_. She lurched, and for a moment, Alfred thought it was done, and it was over, and it had been so easy – but of course it wasn't over, the pirate ship was back on her feet and raring to go, and he was glad he hadn't voiced his thoughts aloud because nobody had expected it to be easy and it certainly wasn't going to be.

As the _Freedom_'s guns fired, so did the other ship's. Some were headed upwards, trying to aim for the mast and bring it down, but they flew wide, much to Alfred's relief. The others, however, were more devastating – punching right through the _Freedom_ and knocking crewmembers down, even knocking a few of the cannons off their supports. Vash was blown backwards, and he hit a wooden beam with a grunt, but he disregarded the few scratches along his forehead and leapt up again, trying to reload before the _Queen Elizabeth_ did.

The pirate ship continued on its way, no doubt heading for a safe distance where they could reload, but Alfred wasn't about to let them do that. He ran over and grabbed the wheel from Roderich, who let it go easily enough and went down to help the others, while the captain twisted it again. The _Freedom _tilted around and followed the _Queen Elizabeth_, the former nudging the latter's stern, they were so close. Neither vessel had reloaded their cannons yet, but if all went according to plan, there would be no need until later. Alfred's officers were poised, ready, on the deck, each one knowing their individual job, and as the _Freedom_ began to catch up with the _Queen Elizabeth_, they swung the hooks in their hands, getting them ready before chucking them over the side.

The first one fell short, but the others hit their mark – catching the side of the pirate ship and attaching themselves sturdily. The men on the other end tugged them once, twice, to check they weren't about to dislodge easily, and then, in a huge, combined effort, hauled on the ropes, effectively sandwiching the _Freedom_ and the _Queen Elizabeth_ together. The air was thick with leftover cannon smoke, and it was obscuring most of the crewmembers, and Alfred hoped desperately that they weren't walking into a trap.

He turned to Francis. "Take the wheel!" he ordered.

"Captain!" Francis began, but Alfred didn't stop to listen. By God, he was boarding this ship, and nobody was going to stop him. This was his moment.

He leapt down the stairs and landed squarely on the deck, kneeling down to peer through the trapdoor to the deck below. Vash's face appeared, framed by his blonde hair and smeared with blood, but looking thoroughly exhilarated.

"How're you doing, Vash?" Alfred asked loudly.

Vash gave him a thumbs-up. "Fantastic, captain! Give us a few minutes to reload and we'll be ready for another swing at her!"

"Don't do _too _much damage, understand?" Alfred told him. "We need to be able to tow her back to Striga without her sinking on us."

Vash nodded once and disappeared, back into the havoc that he so loved. Alfred straightened, just in time to see the wooden gangplank being lifted and then dropped as a connection between the two vessels, while other sailors swung down from the ropes that they had wrapped around the extending arms of their own mast. His men were swarming all over the gangplank the minute it was in place, and he quickly jumped up and joined them, drawing his sword and his pistol at the same time.

His sword was special. Matthew had made it for him, when he had first received the news that his beloved brother would be serving onboard the WNO flagship. It was long and the handle was inlaid with gold leaf. It fit his palm perfectly, and Alfred never went anywhere without it. His pistol, however, was just a normal pistol, and he cocked it as he landed with a _thump_ on the deck of the _Queen Elizabeth._

He held out his hand as his crew jumped down behind him, their war cries quickly dissolving as they surveyed the wreckage before them. The deck of the pirate ship was torn up and ravaged, splinters of wood of various sizes lying here and there. There were even a few bloodstained bodies, trapped under wreckage or with gaping holes in their torsos from the cannonballs. Alfred kept on the alert as he continued to inspect the scene. If he accepted this right away, he was lost – pirates were naturally sneaky by nature, and to give into a trick like this would mark him out as a reckless and over-confident idiot.

But still, the quiet continued, and Alfred began to wonder if they hadn't actually managed to defeat the entire crew after all.

Just then, there was a burst of smoke, and a bullet whizzed past him and hit the Weapons Chief, Yao, who had been standing behind him with his sword raised. The bullet clipped him on the shoulder and he let out a sharp yelp of pain, and, as if that was a signal, all hell broke loose.

The pirates sprung up from their hiding places, behind the mast or underneath the deck or even below the bodies of their own fallen comrades. Swords flashing, their eyes wild, they charged at the _Freedom_'s crew with murderous intent. Alfred barely had time to raise his sword before he was engaged in a feral dance with his first ever pirate. He had to call on all his knowledge of fencing – the pirate often made uncalculated moves, and risky ones at that, but his strategy paid off and Alfred was soon almost overwhelmed. However, one glance over the pirate's shoulder saw Elizaveta, her brown hair flying, duelling with a man twice her size and still managing to hold her own. Alfred wasn't going to be the first one to be brought down, and he wasn't going to be outdone by a woman! He pressed forwards suddenly, his movements more energetic and cleaner, until finally he saw an opportunity and grabbed it, knocking his opponent's sword away and driving his own blade into the man's heart. The pirate died with a look of surprise on his face, and Alfred quickly stepped away from his limp body. For a moment, time seemed to slow down as he brought his sword up to his face, and examined the blood smeared on it with mild surprise. And then the noise hit him again, with screams of pain and the sound of metal clashing, and he was back in the present.

He quickly stepped forward and raised his pistol, aiming and firing at a man who was approaching Feliciano from behind with a dagger clutched in his fist. Feliciano might've been hopeless most of the time, but he was a scrappy little fighter, and was giving the man he was facing quite a run for his money. The backstabbing pirate – literally – fell to the ground, unconscious from the pain, as the bullet from Alfred's gun sliced through his shoulder.

He took a moment to glance around. Luckily, the crew seemed to be following his instructions, which was, only kill if necessary. Ludwig had just clubbed a man across the head with the butt of his pistol and Yao seemed to have recovered from his wound long enough to disable a few pirates. Alfred wasn't looking for any normal crewmember, though.

He was looking for the pirate captain, the man who commanded the _Queen Elizabeth._

Three pirates converged on him at once, but they drew back just as quickly when they caught sight of the captain insignia on Alfred's jacket. Almost like magic, they parted, revealing a short space on the deck and two men grappling for control of a gun. One wore the colours of the WNO, with the gold-yellow colour of his coat and the naturally neat way in which he presented himself making it obvious, but the gold was quickly stained with red as his rival kicked him in the stomach, brought the gun up and shot him through the head.

And when that man turned around, blood that wasn't his own staining his skin and both the gun and a sword raised in the air, Alfred knew that he had found the captain.

* * *

**Has anyone ever seen **_**Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World**_** with Russell Crowe and Paul Bettany? I was thinking of the scene where they board the French ship when I wrote the last part, and I got the idea for the surprise attack from there as well. If you haven't seen it, I would – it's a really fantastic film.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, I couldn't remember when I'd last uploaded, so I decided to go ahead and do it because it's the weekend. #yolo**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

He was short, shorter than Alfred, which was strange, because Alfred had always pictured pirates as tall and threatening. He had scruffy blonde hair, which was half-hidden under his hat, and was wearing a white shirt, fully open at the collar, a leather waistcoat, knee-high boots and brown trousers. He was slim, but obviously strong, and extremely determined – his burning violet eyes were narrowed in feral anger. His red-and-gold coat came down to the back of his knees, and in the wind and smoke, it billowed around his figure.

He looked like more than a match for Alfred.

The _Freedom_'s captain gritted his teeth and brought his sword up in front of his face. The pirate caught sight of him seconds later, and Alfred noticed that those strange purple eyes darted to the symbol of leadership on his collar and back to his face, and, with a bloodthirsty smile, brought his sword up in a whistling arc and leapt forwards.

Alfred quickly blocked the attack, but then the pirate was twisting away again, much faster and much more experienced than Alfred had originally thought. He was constantly being pressed back, with a lot less room to manoeuvre than his opponent, and he was barely preventing that shining blade from nicking his arms or his torso. Parry, duck, spin around, and the pirate was upon him again. Alfred noticed that he had discarded the pistol, and was concentrating entirely on his sword. He was more agile, a bonus that came with his smaller size, but Alfred had had just as much training as him, if not more, so he pulled himself together, summoned his remaining strength, and began to fight back, occasionally landing a swipe himself, that the other quickly blocked.

All around them, WNO officers and pirate crewmembers were going down, to lie among their enemies and stain the deck with their blood. Alfred couldn't spare any attention for them at the moment, but he hoped that all his friends were alright.

For that matter, he hoped _he _was alright. But it was okay, because he was slowly regaining his ground, and remembering what he had been taught – all those special exercises that his instructors had insisted that he learn and memorize. He let out a snarl and he discarded the defence and went for the attack, darting forwards and then back just as quickly, meeting the pirate captain's blade with his own and feeling the exhilaration of the fight as he did so. He began paying more attention to his footwork, because even though he was a pirate, his enemy was, admittedly, almost professional with how he handled the positions.

If either of them had taken a break and looked around, they would've noticed that the crew of the _Freedom_, the WNO, was winning. The pirates' savage attack strategy wasn't getting them anywhere, and since most of them didn't seem to be very well trained in active combat (no doubt because they just stayed on their ship and fired their cannons whenever they attacked a town), the WNO was quickly overpowering them. If Alfred had been given a moment to glance around, he would've seen that the majority of the pirates had already surrendered, and the others were quickly being subdued. But neither he nor the pirate captain could do such a thing, because to let their guard down would've meant a sword through the chest and they weren't exactly willing to let that happen anytime soon.

But they had reached a stalemate now, and something had to happen soon. They couldn't keep duelling forever. Perhaps one of the pirates might step in, or one of Alfred's own officers, they'd tip the balance of the fight in their favour...

Just then, almost as if fate was intervening, Vash, who had decided he'd be more use above deck and had climbed to the crow's nest with his favourite gun in his hand, aimed the barrel down at the horde and pulled the trigger. The bullet had whizzed past the rigging, through the black sails, and finally, shot past Alfred's shoulder and caught the pirate captain on the arm, slicing cleanly through the skin and leaving a trail of blood on the wooden floor behind him.

The pirate shouted out in surprise and pain and clapped his hand to the wound, and that was all Alfred needed – a window of opportunity, no matter how quick or unsteady. As the pirate moved his other hand, the one holding the sword dropped down, and Alfred batted it from his fingers, ducking low and coming up behind him, one hand gripping the back of his neck and the other holding the blade across his throat.

The fighting ground to a halt, almost as if someone had pressed a button and paused it by themselves.

The pirate was struggling in his grip, but Alfred was almost inhumanely strong, and he refused to let go. His prisoner's right sleeve was stained with scarlet, but he could take care of his injuries later. Alfred's arm was shaking slightly, a leftover from the adrenaline, and the slim metal of his foil wavered across the pirate's exposed throat, but this was an empty threat. The captain had to be brought back to the WNO Headquarters alive, even if his entire crew was dead.

Taking advantage of the pirate crew's sudden loss of energy, Alfred's officers relieved them of their weapons and held them at gunpoint. They raised their hands sullenly, casting dirty looks at Alfred and whoever was holding them captive, but to Alfred's surprise, they looked more angry and resentful than despairing and revengeful, which was what he had fully expected. Swearing, shouting, protesting, maybe, but definitely not this...grumpy acceptance.

Now was not the time to try to make sense of it, though. He had his hands full already.

Ludwig pushed through the crowd, dragging behind him a small, brown-haired man with green eyes and a timid face. Alfred's second-in-command pushed him forwards, where he stood, his shoulders hunched, casting apologetic glances at the pirate in Alfred's arms.

"Who's this?" Alfred asked, nodding towards him, and feeling his cheek brush against the other captain's in the process. He would've blushed – _he had absolutely no idea why_ – but Ludwig had already started to speak.

"When he surrendered, he told me he was the first officer," Ludwig explained, matching Alfred's look of incredulous surprise with one of his own.

"Him?" Alfred repeated, raising his eyebrows. Ludwig glanced down at the pirate, who looked, truthfully, far too gentle and thoughtful to be a willing member of the crew of the _Queen Elizabeth. _"What's your name, first?"

The man started at this harsh addressing, and stared determinedly at the floor as he answered. "I'm – I'm Commander Toris Lorinaitis."

As soon as Commander Toris started speaking, his captain began struggling far more intensely than before, and it was only through quick-thinking that Alfred managed to keep him under control. Rethinking his vulnerable position, he removed the hand on the back of the pirate's neck, only to replace it across his chest, pressing him backwards against Alfred in a more secure position.

"Ah, ah," he murmured in a quite reprimand beside the man's ear. "Don't do that, or I'll have to incapacitate you in some painful way."

The pirate scoffed at this – why was he scoffing? He was the one who was captured and at the mercy of his enemy – but ceased his futile resistance, if very reluctantly.

"Commander Toris," Alfred continued, returning his gaze to the cowering figure beside Ludwig. "Tell me who this is."

"You know, I can speak for myself," the pirate hissed, his voice full of venom and murderous intent, but Alfred knew he wasn't going to be acting on either of those any time soon. He didn't grace the other male with a reply, but instead waited for Toris to answer.

Toris looked, understandably, somewhat confused. "That's – that's our captain, Arthur Kirkland."

Alfred tilted his head in interest, but didn't try to get a better look. This Arthur Kirkland was a bit of a sneaky one, if his ability with a sword was anything to go by. Maybe Alfred was getting a little bit cocky, but he couldn't help it – he'd caught the pirates, and defeated them! They wouldn't be attacking anymore villages! And then when they got back to Striga, the WNO would name him a national hero, and there would probably be another award ceremony, because he was just that awesome!

Ludwig interrupted Alfred's happy little reverie. "What shall we do with the prisoners, sir?"

"Hmm? Oh, lock them in the _Queen Elizabeth_'s brig. Treat the wounded and make them as comfortable as possible, but don't go to any special lengths. Hook up a few ropes between the stern of our ship and the bow of this one, and set a course back to Striga. I'm leaving you and Francis in charge of the pirate ship, and take as many officers as you think you'll need to keep them under control."

Ludwig nodded curtly. "And the...captain, sir?"

Alfred had already decided, from the minute he'd started giving Ludwig orders. "He might be useful. I'm taking him back to the _Freedom_, and I'll keep him in my quarters for a few days, until I don't need him anymore."

Captain Arthur Kirkland let out a small sigh at this, and turned his head away, a few strands of hair tickling Alfred's cheek. Alfred raised the blade of his sword and let it fall back down again, beating a sickly pattern on Arthur's throat. "Would you prefer to stay in the brig?"

"As opposed to staying with _you_?" Arthur wrinkled his nose. "Yes, please."

"Well, tough." Alfred removed his sword and sheathed it before spinning Arthur around. He was confronted by a chance to examine the other captain's face further, which he did, as subtly as he could, while he shackled Arthur's hands together with the handcuffs Ludwig had speedily provided. Arthur was surprisingly young, almost the same age as Alfred himself, if his smooth skin and the shape of his face was anything to go by. Those purple eyes and the blonde hair really didn't go together, either – it would've been better if they were blue, or green. His skin tone was pale, although at the moment his cheeks were rather flushed from the fight, and his eyebrows were a bit larger than normal. At the moment, he was looking at Alfred with as much hate he could summon from his tainted soul, but it wasn't having any effect. Alfred bound his hands quickly and efficiently, and then gripped his shoulder, keeping Arthur ahead of him at all times. There was almost a respectful silence as the captain and the pirate disembarked the _Queen Elizabeth, _and returned to the _Freedom, _sitting there patiently like the wonderful ship she was.

Just before Alfred and Arthur disappeared below deck, Alfred stopped for a second and turned back, cupping his hand beside his mouth and calling over, "If any of the pirates try to escape, Ludwig, shoot them." His voice was so cold and calm that nobody doubted him, and Ludwig snapped off a salute, as well as a shouted, "Yes, sir!" to show that he understood perfectly.

By the time the two captains arrived at Alfred's cabin, Ludwig had already organised for his prisoners to go down to the brig. Francis had joined him on the _Queen Elizabeth_, after giving the wheel to Honda Kiku and telling him to head for Striga after they'd connected the two ships together. He took out his sword just in case, but the pirates, having heard Alfred's last command, were docile. Francis was slightly put out that he had missed the action, and kept casting Ludwig jealous glances.

Unknown to any of the WNO officers watching over the captives, one man, shielded by a few of his comrades at the back of their small group, was actually doing something about this. He was tall and wore glasses, rather similar to Alfred's, and had dark blonde hair. He raised his head and let out a tiny whistle, that went unnoticed in the general hustle and bustle of the movement onboard the _Queen Elizabeth. _Swooping down from where it had been perched on one of the sails' arms, a bird circled for a few moments before landing on the man's arm, letting out a few croaks as the man stroked its black feathers to soothe it. Casting a quick glance around to make sure that nobody was looking, and to reassure himself that he was properly shielded by his crewmates, the man watched Commander Toris descend towards the brig before taking a ring off the forefinger of his right hand. It was a gaudy thing, dark, polished gold with an inlaid, carefully shined amethyst, but despite its appearance, it was lighter than it looked. The man slid it onto one of the bird's legs, securing it with a small piece of string. The bird, a scraggly crow, had been trained for this eventuality, and immediately took off, its talons digging into the pirate's arm before it took wind, hovering above the two ships for a moment to get its bearings before, utilising its natural sense of direction, took off, until it was nothing more than a speck in the night sky, and then even that was gone.

The man was ordered below deck, and he obeyed, absent-mindedly rubbing his forearm as he did so.

* * *

The crow was strong, and it flew for two days straight, sometimes over land, but mostly over water. It flew north-east, over the Great Western Ocean, and then over the Republic of Hecktonite, before it reached the Bay of Argril, which touched upon the beaches of Hecktonite, Ortil and Selkor. Just beside the border of Ortil was a towering pirate ship, with purple sails and less than honourable intent, with its anchor down. The crow dived down and alighted on the deck with a _thud_, raising its head and squawking briefly before keeling over and promptly dying of exhaustion. The crewmembers on the deck glanced at it, looked at each other in confusion, and then, spotting the ring attached to the crow's claws, stumbled backwards in recognition.

One man strode forwards, kneeling down to inspect the dead bird, and, more specifically, the piece of jewellery it carried. Captain Ivan Braginski of the pirate vessel _Red Bear_ looked calm as he untied the piece of string and held the ring up to the light filtering down onto the ship. The amethyst gleamed, and Ivan fancied he could see the _Queen Elizabeth _in it, as it was connected to the _WNO_ _Freedom _and slowly pulled back to Striga.

The ring was a signal – a signal that something had gone wrong, and the _Queen Elizabeth _had been captured, and they would be unable to continue their mission. Ivan picked up the dead crow and threw it overboard without sparing it a glance, before slipping the ring onto his right index finger and turning back to his crew.

"Set a course for WNO Headquarters!" he roared, and the pirates immediately sprung into action. The anchor was recalled, and the sails were extended, the dark, regal purple an unnatural spot of colour amidst the Bay of Argril's shining blue waters.

A tall, beautiful woman was waiting for him by the stairs that descended beneath the deck, wearing a long black cloak with fur linings. She gazed on his face with adoration, but he barely paid her any attention, and brushed past her into the depths of the _Red Bear._

"Brother," she called, easily keeping up with him. "What is the matter?"

Ivan barely spared his sister Natalia Alfroskaya a glance as he continued on his way. "The _Queen Elizabeth _has been captured. Arthur was supposed to wait for me at Port Sharpe, but he and his ship will be towed back to the WNO. We should be able to intercept them before they reach the Headquarters – with a full ship slowing them down, if they are crossing the Western Ocean and heading up the shoreline..." He did some quick calculations. "It should take them two weeks, maybe more. I predict," he began, and a dark smile spread across his face, "one week until we cross paths."

* * *

**Sorry for the short length, hopefully the next one will make up for that. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

There weren't many people below deck on the _Freedom_, so both Arthur and Alfred managed to reach it to Alfred's cabin without any incidents. Arthur hadn't said a word the whole way, but had stared straight ahead – Alfred, on the other hand, at spent every spare minute examining him. He'd never really seen a pirate before, and all he'd had when he was growing up were the figures in his imagination, when he'd heard a particularly interesting story about a chance battle on the high seas. He'd always thought pirates would be dark-haired, greasy and dirty, with swear words spilling out of their lips every time they spoke, and a strong smell surrounding them all the time. In other words, the opposite of every WNO officer Alfred had ever encountered, minus the dark hair. That wasn't anybody's fault.

But this pirate – no, not just a pirate, a pirate _captain _– looked like nothing Alfred had ever seen. Young, pale, _neat. _It was just strange, and Alfred didn't know how to deal with him. Sure, he'd acted with bravado up there on the _Queen Elizabeth_'s deck, mainly because he was still on a high from his plan actually succeeding, but now the two were alone together...how did he talk to this guy?

He reassured himself by saying that he didn't _have _to talk to him. All he needed to do was make sure that Arthur Kirkland made it back to WNO Headquarters in one piece, and then the Generals would take him off Alfred's hands.

Alfred frowned. Well, he had captured the pirate himself. It just didn't feel _right _to hand him over to WNO officials without – well, without getting to know him better. Making sure that Arthur knew who had beaten him.

They arrived at Alfred's cabin and Alfred unlocked it, sticking the key back in his trouser pocket when he was done, and then opening the door and forcibly throwing Arthur in. Arthur stumbled on the rug that covered the rough wooden floor, and then regained his footing, spinning around as if he expected Alfred to attack, but Alfred just leant against the doorframe, unsure of how to proceed. Arthur was looking at him like all he wanted in the world was to leap on him and pull his throat out, but he was hampered by the shackles and his injured arm. Instead, he threw Alfred a withering glare, and turned his back, examining his surroundings.

Alfred tilted his head. In the cramped space on the _Freedom_, Arthur was behaving exactly like a trapped animal. His eyes were darting around restlessly, and he kept glancing towards the window that opened up onto the inlet and Port Sharpe itself. Those eyes...now, those were strange. Alfred had observed them before, but now they looked like they were positively glowing with energy. And what an unusual shade of purple, too. Alfred had never seen anyone else with purple eyes.

He blushed a little and averted his gaze. What was he doing, wondering about this pirate's eyes when there was work to be done? He had to supervise the repairs of the _Freedom_, and see if anybody was injured, and assign everyone jobs to get the work done faster. He was about to turn around and shut the door when the small splotch of scarlet on Arthur's white shirt distracted him. Arthur didn't _look _bothered by it, but a bullet, even just a scratch from a bullet, could be extremely painful.

On the way to Port Sharpe from Striga, before catching sight of the _Queen Elizabeth_, Alfred had made a strict policy with himself not to interact with any pirates he captured, or show them any mercy at all. On their own heads, he remembered thinking, but that was before. That was a nervous captain planning out everything before it happened, and thinking that nothing was going to change it. Now it was different, now he had a pirate captain in his cabin, and said captain was injured.

Well, he didn't have to talk to the guy. But if he didn't send for help, or take care of him, then he was just as bad as Arthur, and that was something he didn't want.

He sighed, and strode forwards, gripping Arthur's arm and pulling him around to face him. Arthur tried to resist, but he had been taken by surprise, and soon found his injury under careful inspection by the other man in the room. Alfred unbuttoned the cuffs and rolled up his sleeve, almost wincing himself when he saw the swollen, red wound – a long red line, clear across Arthur's bicep. He didn't try to touch it, but he almost unconsciously made the decision to send the _Freedom_'s doctor down to bandage it. He could've just left it, or bound it up with some spare cloth and left it at that, but...

But there was something about Arthur that made him hesitate.

That made him want to help.

Alfred tutted, and shook his head. He needed to get some fresh air. The heat of the fight was getting to him, and it was warping his thoughts. He needed to have his wits about him, as his entire crew and the WNO Generals were depending upon him.

Arthur misinterpreted Alfred's gesture as something else. "It's not that bad," he snapped. Alfred met his stare in surprise – mainly because he had actually said something, and because his voice wasn't what Alfred had expected. Back on the deck of the _Queen Elizabeth_, when Alfred had been confronting Toris, Arthur had spoken, or, more accurately, hissed, he hadn't been able to gather much information. He _sounded _foreign, but not too foreign – probably from somewhere in the body of land that lay to the East, and definitely not from Altiana or any countries near there. But now his voice was raised to normal volume, and he wasn't trying to make every word sound like an insult, and Alfred could hear him properly.

"I'm sure it's fine," the taller replied, his voice steady and calm, determined to keep his cool. "I was thinking of something else. I'll have the doctor come and look at it."

Arthur pulled his arm out of Alfred's grip. "I don't want the doctor," he sneered, taking a few steps back.

"That's not your decision," Alfred told him sharply. "You'll thank me later when you don't die of an infection."

Arthur snorted and looked away. "That'll be the day."

Alfred frowned. This guy was a bit of a smartass. Well, hopefully, he wouldn't have to put up with him for long. He cast his eyes over the desk, and then reached over to pick up the penknife that he used for slitting open envelopes. Arthur watched him.

"Afraid I'll gut you in your sleep?" he asked, a self-righteous smirk on his face. Alfred slipped the knife into his pocket and offered him a laugh.

"Like you'd be able to," he retorted.

"Please." Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'd be more than capable of that. The only reason you even beat me was because I underestimated you."

He smiled cruelly when he saw Alfred's blue eyes widen, knowing he'd hit upon a nerve. Alfred exited the room without another word, slamming the door behind him and locking it as quickly as he could, as if that could keep Arthur's insult in the room with him. But the sentence buzzed around his brain, flashing in front of his eyes, settling into the darkest regions of his mind, where all his fears slumbered, and making itself comfortable.

_No, that can't be true_, he argued, as he made his way slowly down the corridor. _I beat him because I'm better, simple as that. Of course he underestimated me, but that's not why he lost! I'm better, _that's _why he lost! He's just sore because he's a prisoner now_.

But no matter how much Alfred tried, he couldn't shake the horrible feeling that had taken root in his body. He was, however, distracted from it when he saw one of the _Freedom_'s more professional doctors pass in front of him, offering up a salute and then continuing on his way.

"Smith!" he called. The middle-aged, light-haired Smith stopped and glanced back at Alfred, immediately snapping to attention. Alfred got straight to the point.

"The pirate in my quarters," he explained, "he got hit by a stray bullet. I don't need him kicking the bucket from a bad infection before we return to Striga, so could you bandage and disinfect it?"

"Yes, captain," Smith replied. Alfred drew the key out of his pocket and gave it to the man. "Make sure you lock the door behind you," he warned. "I'll send a guard down to watch over you while you work."

Half an hour later, Smith found Alfred talking with Yao, who had had his own injury treated and was eager to get back on his feet and get to work. The officer waited respectfully until his superiors were done, and then stepped in.

"Sir," he started. "I treated the pirate. He's in good hands, sir, he'll be fine. It was just a scratch after all, but you're right, sir, a bullet can carry lots of nasty diseases."

Alfred nodded, looking at Smith warmly. "Thank you, Mr. Smith, I appreciate it."

"Yes, sir." Smith glanced up at him, almost warily, as if he was worried that what he was about to say warranted a punishment. "He's, uh...quite the hellion, Captain Jones. You have your hands full, sir."

There were many things Alfred wanted to say in response to that, none of them aimed at Smith, but about Arthur, but he didn't have the right nor the time to unload his emotional baggage onto an innocent member of the crew. Instead, he clapped Smith on the shoulder.

"I think you're right there, Mr. Smith," he answered, before walking off, leaving Smith looking profoundly relieved.

* * *

The Generals were in session, and they weren't to be disturbed, but this was urgent. The aid shot through the gleaming corridors, his jacket flapping behind him, a single sheet of paper clutched in his sweaty hand. He skidded to a halt in front of room 2B, and took a moment to compose himself before knocking firmly on the door.

"Come in," a toneless voice commanded, and the aid did just that.

He had always been intimidated by the Generals, even though they were kind people who were just trying to do their jobs properly. He stared intently at the floor as he walked, only raising his eyes when he found himself in front of the table and facing the General of Altiana. Almost losing his cool and running for it right then, he stuck the sheet of paper out in front of him with a trembling hand.

"Intelligence, sir," he stuttered, feeling a bead of sweat run down his neck. "We r-received this from the outpost on the tip of Hecktonite, sir."

The General of Altiana calmly extended a hand and took the paper. "Thank you."

"S-sir," the aid muttered, bowing unnecessarily, before turning and very literally running out of the room, shutting the door as quietly as he could behind him. The General of Esmeralda let out a small, sympathetic laugh.

"Poor man," she commented. "The bowing really was not called for."

The General of Altiana smiled in reply and turned his attention to the sheet in front of him. As he read down the lines of text, his expression got infinitely graver, until it had lost all traces of amusement. The other Generals waited quietly, knowing they would get their turn to read it for themselves.

The General of Altiana sighed, and rubbed his free hand across his forehead before passing it to his neighbour, who took it with silent gratitude and began to read. By the time all of the people in the room had seen what the paper contained, he had already formed a response.

"Any suggestions?" he asked anyway, because the basis of the WNO was not founded upon one country, it was founded by all of them.

The General of Selkor was the first to speak up. "It says that the attack by the _Freedom _was a success, according to our contacts in Port Sharpe, despite the WNO casualties from the pirate ship's destruction, and Captain Jones should be towing the vessel back to Striga right now."

"But..." the General of Lementor picked up, which was strange for him, because he was normally quite softly-spoken and only decided to talk when he thought it was worth it. "It seems that our Eastern pirates have turned West, which can only mean they either mean to lead an assault upon Striga itself, in an act of desperation, or they want to intercept the _Freedom _and free their comrades."

"We gave Captain Jones the order to maintain communications silence," the General of Guardia reminded the assembly. "If it is the latter, we cannot warn him. He might assume it was a trick from the other pirates and do exactly the opposite of what we advise in the letter."

The General of Altiana sighed. "We can only hope that they make it back to Striga in time for the fleet to protect them."

Every single General in the room knew why they weren't going to mobilise the WNO fleet and send it off to escort the _Freedom._ They had worked together for so long that they knew exactly what the others were thinking. If they sent the WNO fleet down to help bring the _Freedom_ to the port in Striga, it might be their downfall. The movement of just one pirate ship could deceive them, and they could send off all their best hopes for defending the city, just when a new, stronger armada might emerge. There were only rumours of two pirate ships, and those rumours had turned out to be true. What if there were many more, just waiting beyond the horizon to attack, just when the WNO capital of the world was left unguarded?

None of the Generals were happy with the decision, but they had a duty to Striga and its people, and they couldn't sit around waiting for a bigger force to swoop in and decimate the coastal city.

* * *

With all the operations necessary for repairing the ship covered and everyone assigned one duty or another, Alfred would normally take this time off to draw up a report to be handed into the Generals when they got back to Striga. Only, he didn't really _want _to go back to his cabin. It was stupid, he knew, and he was furious at himself, but every time he forced himself to walk down the corridor towards his quarters, he always found himself striding right past and finding something else to occupy his time with.

Night had dissolved into day, and they were already on course for Striga. Port Sharpe was already repairing itself, and Alfred would've been happy to stay there to help rebuild things and make sure everyone was okay, but a brig full of uninjured pirates was a disaster waiting to happen, so it was better if they set off for Striga right away. They stayed close to the shoreline of Drakonia, making their way up it, and never straying too far into the space between the Western Ocean and the Southern Ocean, known more locally as the Great Deeps. There were many tales of ships being lost in that wide expanse of salt water, ranging from being destroyed by a meteorite from the sky to being pulled beneath the waves by some giant sea monster. Whatever was lying at the bottom of the Great Deeps, Alfred wasn't ready to face it just yet, so he had ordered for the _Freedom _– and, also, the _Queen Elizabeth_ – to stay in sight of land at all times.

Drakonia was a beautiful country, mostly full of wild jungle and amazing animals that had yet to be discovered. A few explorers, though, had set up a small town in the middle of all the vegetation, and it had become Drakonia's capital city, despite the fact that there were no other cities. However, unwilling to spoil the natural beauty of the place, the inhabitants of the city, although just as modern as everybody else, kept to themselves and let the plants have free reign. Alfred had been there once, in a WNO training exercise, and he'd almost been gutted by a monkey with long, razor-sharp claws. After that, he'd decided to stay clear of Drakonia for the time being.

Wistful fantasies of being alone on some beach by himself – no pirates allowed – drifted away as he came to a stop outside his quarters. He asked himself, for the hundredth time, why he hadn't just imprisoned Arthur down with the other pirates, and, for the hundredth time, two answers came back to him: the Generals needed Arthur alive and well, and the brig certainly wasn't a place to flourish, and if Arthur was with his crewmembers, his presence might give them the energy and determination they needed to overcome the guards, escape and reclaim the _Queen Elizabeth._

_I'd better get a medal for this_, Alfred thought grimly, before nodding to the sentry beside the door, opening it and stepping inside quickly before Arthur could try to slip out.

As he turned, a flash of blonde hair caught his eye and he raised his arm, just in time to block Arthur's attack with a small dagger that Alfred knew hadn't been in his cabin before. He pushed backwards, and Arthur stumbled, but was on him just as fast as the first time. He swung his arm and Alfred ducked, before gripping Arthur's fist and pulling it back, out of way of harm, and trying to wrestle the dagger from him. However, Arthur was more than reluctant to let go of it, and Alfred only won by taking advantage of Arthur's injury – he pressed his hand against the bandaged scratch and yanked the dagger from Arthur's grip.

_Would I still have won if he hadn't already been wounded?_

_Shut up, _he told his conscience firmly, _now is really not the time._

Arthur scowled at him, rubbing his upper arm vacantly. Alfred held up the dagger, examining it – no, it definitely wasn't his. He glanced at Arthur.

"Where did you get this?" he asked. Arthur crossed his arms defiantly.

"You forgot to search me for weapons," he gloated. Alfred just looked at the dagger in something like disgust and slid into his own belt. "Sit down," he said, nodding towards the spare chair in the corner. Arthur shifted his weight from one foot to the other and said nothing.

Alfred sighed. "Ugh, fine." He walked over to the chair behind his desk and took off his coat, hanging it on the hook behind his head. "Stand if you want, I'm not going to force you."

"Why?" Arthur shot at him. Alfred wondered if he should search him for any more weapons, and decided he'd leave that to somebody else. A captain shouldn't have to do dirty work like that.

"I want to ask you some questions," Alfred told him firmly. He'd already decided this before they'd even come across the _Queen Elizabeth _– he'd save the Generals the work of extracting answers from Arthur Kirkland and be able to just tell them, and then they'd see him as even more awesome than before! And besides, he was curious himself. The pirate threat had been almost extinct for ages. Something was up, and it wasn't just two ships on a random killing spree.

Arthur was standing still as a statue. "And you think I'm going to answer, do you?"

Alfred leant forward. "Come on, pirate, they're simple questions. Anyway, you're captured now, so what's the harm in telling me?"

"Maybe something like...honour?" Arthur spat at him. Alfred stood up, cheeks flushing. What the hell was it about this man that got him so worked up all the time?

"You're a pirate, you don't have any honour!" he said loudly, placing his hands on the desk in a dominant manner. Arthur leant forwards as well, close and personal, so his words didn't have far to hit their mark.

"I have more honour than _you_," he hissed. "You're nothing but a brainwashed idiot who does whatever the WNO tells him to do, and never questions it! You're just being used! Look at you, parading around with the captain's insignia on your chest, when you've never done anything worthwhile in your life! You've never had to fight for your very existence! The WNO is full of weak has-beens who've gone soft and you're not far off from joining them!"

"Shut up!" Alfred yelled, his eyes flashing behind his glasses. "You don't know anything! You're just trying to distract me, _pirate_, and it's not going to work! You are going to answer whatever I ask you!"

"Or _what_? What are you going to do? Has the WNO stooped as low as torture yet, or are you too pure and noble for that sort of thing? You parade around in your fancy uniforms, acting like you're the most superior beings alive, but you're the lowest of the low!"

"And where do you get this high-and-mighty attitude, pirate?" Alfred asked, his words twisted with malicious intent. "You're one to talk!"

"Maybe because the WNO killed my father, you son of a bitch!" Arthur screamed, and at this insult, Alfred felt his anger, which he had tried to harness and keep under control, break through and rampage through his body, leaving a trail of fire.

"And the pirates killed mine!" he snapped back. "So you really _can't _talk, can you! Don't be mistaken in thinking that you're the only one whose life has been affected, you arrogant idiot!"

"Somehow, I don't think I'm going to be able to sympathise with you," Arthur growled. "It may be something to do with the fact that you're my _enemy_."

"Believe me, I don't want you to sympathise with me!"

"Well, good, because I'm not going to!"

"Fine!" And in an act of desperation to end the argument on his terms, as employed by thousands of five-year-olds across the globe, Alfred stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Apologies for the wait. I would say that my life got in the way of me uploading, but I don't have one. **

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**Four Days Later**

Captain Ivan Braginski stood next to the railings of the _Red Bear, _casting his gaze out to sea. All around them was water, no sign of land or any other civilization anywhere. It was at times like this when he wished that everybody else had been wiped out by some sort of freak alien attack and he was the only survivor. All those bodies would make nice companions – they would always agree with him.

His calming – for him – fantasies were interrupted by a sudden burst of pain in the back of his skull and he winced, a scowl once again deepening the lines on his face. There were light, graceful footsteps behind him and Natalia hesitantly placed her hand on his shoulder, expecting him to shake it off. The only reason he didn't was because he was busy planning ahead.

"Is everything alright, brother?" Natalia asked, the sea wind whistling through the sails and whipping her words away from her mouth.

Ivan gently massaged his temple as he replied. "My control over him is weakening. Sometimes he slips away altogether. It's maddening. I was so close to regaining possession! Natalia..." His voice trailed off in a whisper, and his sister stepped closer, her excitement at being his confidant making her hands tremble slightly. "I'm afraid we won't intercept the _Freedom _in time," he murmured, making sure that no other members of the crew could hear him. "What if he decides to cooperate fully with the WNO? Then all our plans will be for nothing."

Natalia stepped forward and tried to hug him reassuringly, but he pushed her away. His eyes were wild with the kind of impulsive anger than only he seemed to be infected with. "Loosen the sails!" he shouted at the pirates within ear-shot. "Make the ship go _faster_!"

* * *

Four days after the battle at Port Sharpe, and Alfred still wasn't sure what to think about the man in his cabin.

He'd made observations, even written some of them down, as little memos for the Generals when they returned. They might be of some help, after all, but the habits that the memos described were getting increasingly random and Alfred had thrown them all overboard in a fit of irritation.

Arthur wasn't as spirited as he had first been when the _Queen Elizabeth _had been captured. He had managed to hide one more dagger on his person, but so far, he hadn't attacked Alfred with it – Alfred had seen him twirling it around in his fingers, with a slightly bemused look on his face, before he'd confiscated it and given it to Yao to add to the stores of weapons on the _Freedom_. Arthur hadn't even asked for it back. It was like, sometimes, he was a completely different person, like there were two personalities hiding in that one body. He was still confined to Alfred's quarters, but after three escape attempts that had all failed, he had just given up, which didn't seem to be like him, in Alfred's limited opinion. The WNO captain had once caught him staring out of the window, tracing lines on the glass almost as if they were a map, and muttering the names of what sounded like harbours and cities under his breath.

Alfred hadn't talked to him much after that one rather explosive argument the day after the Port Sharpe incident. When he returned to his cabin after a day's work above deck, he would make sure Arthur hadn't hurt himself (it wasn't unknown for a prisoner to commit suicide), that the scratch from Vash's bullet was healing, and that he wasn't going to try to harm Alfred himself or try to get out any time soon. Then there was an awkward silence, until Alfred decided to retire for the night, and then he'd double-check that there were no weapons before he got into bed. Arthur didn't seem to sleep. He'd remain by the window for the entire night, and although that must've been hell on his back, Alfred certainly wasn't going to invite him into the bed with him. Let him use the sofa if he really wanted, although it wasn't very big.

_A hero would offer him the bed, and sleep on the couch_, the annoying voice in the back of his mind scolded him every night, but he would always counter it by replying, _he's a pirate. Need I say more?_

Maybe it was something to do with the confinement, but with each passing day, Arthur seemed to be getting more and more confused – constantly looking around as if he didn't know where he was, or he needed some confirmation from someone that he was safe. Alfred suspected that his pride was getting in the way of simply asking what had happened, almost like his memories had been completely drained out of him, except he still glanced at Alfred with hatred whenever he came near.

It was on the third day, if Alfred remembered correctly, when he began really noticing that something was strange. He'd so far avoided eye contact with Arthur – excuse _him_ if he didn't want to make the whole situation a lot more awkward than it needed to be – but on one occasion, when he was staring at the pirate while floundering in his mind for some words needed to describe him in his newest report, Arthur had turned around, their eyes had met, and Alfred had noticed something weird going on with his eyes. He'd always been wary of that stare, as it tended to unnerve him, but now he got up from the desk, crossed over to the window, and took Arthur's face in his hands. Arthur had cursed at him and tried to push him away, but Alfred had resisted the attempts, and studied those violet irises. And sure enough, mingling with the other colour were flecks of green, seemingly randomly spaced, and definitely new. They hadn't been there that time when they were up in each other's faces, because Alfred had seen his eyes clearly, and they had been pure lilac. But now there was _green _in them, and rather large, noticeable splinters of green, too. At a particularly hard kick from Arthur that had landed on his shin, Alfred had stumbled away.

"What was _that_?" Arthur half-rose from his seat, rubbing the place where Alfred's fingers had gripped his cheek.

"You – your eyes –" Alfred stuttered unprofessionally, and then he took a moment to compose himself. "Something's going on with your eyes; they've got these...flecks of green in them. Those weren't there before."

Arthur half-raised his hand, before realising that trying to touch his own eyes wouldn't exactly solve anything, and then lowered it. His expression had changed abruptly – the guard that he normally pushed up whenever he and Alfred were in the same room (which was nearly all the time) was down, and he looked confused, almost scared, and despite Alfred's silent insistences that it should bloody well stay in his chest, his heart went out to him. He looked _lost_, but Alfred was also extremely wary, because this could be some sort of trick. Arthur could be just waiting to catch him off guard, so he could knock him unconscious with the candlestick or something and then escape. He wouldn't get far, but, knowing him, he would still try.

But even though he was determined that he wouldn't be outsmarted by this obviously gifted pirate, Alfred still felt himself wavering whenever he thought of Arthur. He'd grown used to his presence in the two rooms that made up his quarters, and he almost looked for him now when he entered, a reassurance that everything was the same it had always been.

And there were the other things that Alfred had been noticing, despite his best intentions: how Arthur would always glance at him and then away when he entered the room, and how, despite that red coat, he was actually quite slim, bordering on thin, but not quite, and he was dressed rather...well, _nicely_ – for a pirate, that was. His shirt was clean, and his boots weren't scuffed or muddy, they were polished, and on the second day, when he'd taken off his coat after he'd gotten hot from his endless pacing around the cabin, he'd folded it neatly, almost as if it was second nature to him, and placed it carefully over the back of the sofa.

Of all the captains in the world, Alfred had to get one like _this_. Not perfect, not his friend, and certainly not someone he would normally identify with, but who he seemed to be warming to anyway. He'd lain awake at night, trying to discover just what it was that he felt for Arthur – sympathy? Misguided friendship? – but all that did was give him a few hours when the pirate captain was the only thing on his mind, and that was the last thing he needed.

He was WNO, for God's sake! He was a hero! He couldn't go...goddamn it, _getting attached _to stray pirates who he'd been ordered to capture and return to Headquarters! His father had been _killed_ by one of these bastards, and here he was getting all soft over one!

He would toss and turn in bed deep into the night, when the moonlight was streaming through the windows and illuminating a bare patch on the rug, and he would be no closer to the answers he sought the next morning.

On the third day, Alfred had decided not to bother trying to sleep, and volunteered to do a night watch. It was unusual for a captain to do that, but the crew was accustomed to Alfred taking part in the daily work. It was one of his ways to get to know them better, and also to try to get them to think that he was one of them, and that they shouldn't hesitate if they ever needed to talk to him. Most of the officers didn't feel that safe with pirates only a few metres away, so he met quite a few of them, wandering the halls, on his way up to the deck. Salutes were exchanged, a few hesitant smiles, before Alfred was up in the fresh air, with a cool night breeze ruffling his hair and gently pushing against the sails.

He always loved coming up at night, but he didn't get the chance to do it that often. When he was younger, he'd figured that sleeping was for suckers, but now he actually had a command of his own and people relying on him, he'd decided that getting some rest here and there wouldn't go amiss. And before he knew it, he was sleeping until morning and forgetting to set aside some time to come up onto the deck.

But he was here now, and it was wonderful – away from the stuffy cabin, and the confusing pirate. He leant against the railings, and tilted his head up to the star-studded sky, before taking a deep breath and beginning to patrol the ship, taking special care to study the _Queen Elizabeth _intently in case there was any trouble going on back there. Feliciano, who had followed Ludwig over there, spotted Alfred leaning over the stern of the _Freedom_ and waved happily. Alfred returned it, wondering what Feliciano was doing up so late and why he wasn't hanging onto Ludwig's arm somewhere.

The watch Alfred had taken was two hours, and his relief was a little late, arriving on the deck dishevelled and with half-closed eyes, so he got to spend some more time with his ship than was strictly necessary. But when it _was _time for him to go back down, he gritted his teeth, sighed, and offered a grimace to the man up in the crow's nest before bidding him goodnight.

When he arrived back in his quarters, fully intent on collapsing onto his mattress and snoozing the rest of the night away, a surprising sight met his eyes.

Arthur was lying on his bed.

Although that one sentence could be misinterpreted many ways – Alfred decided not to go there – this one was, admittedly, the most surprising. Alfred had forgotten that, on his way out of his cabin, he had looked over at Arthur and then stared at the floor, mumbling something about how he wasn't going to be needing his bed tonight and that if Arthur wanted, he could use it. At the time, he had thought the pirate would never in a million years accept that invitation and that he'd rather permanently damage his spine than sleep in a WNO captain's bed, but it seemed that Alfred had been wrong.

Arthur was sprawled face-down on the mattress, the sheets down by his knees, and he was fast asleep. His outstretched arm was hiding his mouth, and he looked so much more relaxed than usual – his eyebrows weren't furrowed, they were smooth, and there were none of those faint worry lines that stretched across his forehead. He was snoring slightly, and Alfred found it was an oddly...comforting sound. Without realising what he was doing, he took off his hat and, very gently, sat in his chair, never taking his eyes off Arthur's body. Why was this so enchanting? He could see anybody sleep, any time he wanted! But maybe because it was _Arthur _–that this was the first time he had let his guard down around Alfred, and the WNO captain could look at him all he wanted without getting a snarky comment thrown at him for his troubles.

_You know what you're doing, don't you?_

Alfred sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to get rid of the weight on his shoulders, just for a minute. He had a ship-full of pirates, a responsibility to the WNO, the task of keeping a pirate captain alive and contained, and now, to cap it all, he was falling in love with the very person he was supposed to hate with all his soul!

_Yes, that's right. You're falling in love with him._

Even thinking desperately about his father, and the circumstances under which he had died, only reminded Alfred about the fact that Arthur's own father had been killed by the WNO and he most likely had nothing to do with it anyway, since he would've been only a year older than Alfred was when Mr Jones had been killed. The more Alfred thought about it, the more he was convinced that the pirates didn't really want to fight in the first place. They just wanted their freedom, space to move about in the seas that didn't mean conducting WNO business. Just room to sail in, do what they were born to do, without the fear of persecution.

And all this came from looking at Arthur's sleeping face. His very morals were being questioned, and it was that damn pirate's fault, and yet he couldn't bring himself to blame him. It was like he was only just discovering what the world really contained, and Arthur was the person who had unlocked it and opened the door. He couldn't hate him – it was only his job.

Alfred had never really been one for deep, philosophical thought, but the rocking motion of the ship and the gentle flickering of the candle he'd lit when he'd entered was putting him in a sleep mood and before he knew it, he'd drifted off, propped up uncomfortably in the chair behind his desk, and his face turned, very obviously, towards the other occupant of the room.

* * *

On board the _Queen Elizabeth, _a few hours later, Francis turned and frowned at Ludwig.

"They're awfully quiet," he commented, nodding his head in the direction of the brig.

Ludwig crossed his arms, keeping one eye on Feliciano, who was currently trying to visit one of the officers up in the pirate ship's crow's nest and therefore shimmying up the mast. "I know. I don't like it. Even when someone brings their food, they don't even poke fun at them and call them names. This isn't how trapped pirates behave."

Ludwig was an expert in that particular matter, as he was one of the few in the WNO who had captured a pirate ship and brought it back to Headquarters. This might've been Alfred's first mission in this field, but it wasn't his – he was as well trained to deal with this as anybody. And the whole thing was ringing alarm bells in his head.

"If I didn't know better," Francis continued, "I'd almost say they were waiting for someone." He paused. "You don't think they were expecting another ship once they'd taken Port Sharpe, do you?"

Ludwig shrugged. "Who can tell? If we were still in contact with the WNO, they'd probably be able to tell us, but for now, we're on our own." A slow wail from above indicated that Feliciano had lost his grip, and Ludwig stepped forward to catch him without changing expression. "Anyway, what can go wrong? They're trapped in the brig, and that thing is a secure as any."

Feliciano thudded into his arms.

* * *

The _Queen Elizabeth_'s brig hadn't been used for a long time – it was there more for aesthetic purposes and a follow-through on threats than for anything serious. The last thing the pirate crew had expected, however, was to be trapped in there themselves. They had been quiet, Francis was right, but when nobody was looking, they paced the cramped cage and snarled under their breath and reached for their absent swords in vain.

At the back of the cage, Toris and the man who had sent the crow off to find the _Red Bear_, one Eduard von Bock, huddled together, pressed against the slimy wooden wall. They spoke in harsh whispers, determined that none of their crewmates should hear them, and whenever one passed, they immediately turned away and stopped talking.

Toris straightened his waistcoat nervously and crossed his arms. "I've been talking to a few of them," he murmured, turning away from Eduard to dissuade the illusion that he was talking to him. "They're all loyal to Ivan. They can't wait to be set free and go kill the WNO officers."

Eduard's eyes flickered. "They can't be persuaded, that much is obvious. It has to be just us – we can't trust anyone else."

"What about Raivis?" Toris asked quietly. "He's still on the _Red Bear_. If we defect now, without him, Ivan will suspect him, and kill him, or worse."

"Then he'll come after us." Toris and Eduard were by no means cowardly, but Ivan struck a fear in their hearts that they'd never known before, and the mere thought of having someone like him on their trail wherever they went was enough to make them rethink their decision. Not to mention that scary sister of his, Natalia. She was a master with a blade and they'd seen what she could do more than enough times.

"There's no way to pass information to the WNO officers without arousing suspicion," Toris muttered. "We'll have to sit tight. There must be some way to do this."

"We could wait until after," Eduard suggested. "Leave a trail in some way that Ivan wouldn't notice, some way that the other ship could follow us."

Toris raised his hand to run his fingers absent-mindedly through his hair. "Yes, maybe..."

* * *

Ivan Braginski didn't really believe in bad luck, but this was pushing it. The news that Arthur had been captured he could deal with, that they were being taken back to WNO Headquarters was alright, that it would take a little while to catch up with them was acceptable, but – storms? Really?

Unforeseen storms, too. The Great Deeps were not known for their accommodation towards ships, but weather of this magnitude had never been recorded. The Great Western Ocean was calm, for the most part, and Ivan had been counting on that the last time their ETA had been delivered. Now it was going to take them much longer, especially if these blasted winds kept up!

He paced around his cabin, his thunderous expression matching the clouds outside. On the sopping deck, his crewmembers battled against the elements, continuously being pounded by sheeting rain and great waves of dark, salty water. They slipped around on the wood, yelling to each other incomprehensibly, raising Ivan's temper further.

At last, he could take it no more. He had to do _something_, even if it was just shouting at his men to go faster. Grabbing a waterproof coat from where it was draped over the chair, he stormed out of his quarters and pulled it on right before he emerged up top.

The first thing that struck him was the wind – attacking him the moment he poked his head above the deck, grabbing at the folds of his coat and trying to whip them away into the dark, menacing sky. Growling in irritation, he pulled his hood up, although the thin material didn't do much when this type of weather was concerned. He strode forwards, crossing to the railing, where he looked out across the open sea, gaze narrowing in anger.

The waves were towering, each one easily surpassing the height of the _Red Bear, _stretching out as far as the eye could see. They crashed about the wooden vessel, rocking it back and forth so violently that the captain could literally hear the timber planks straining to stay resolute. The mast overhead was creaking, and the pirates were staying well clear of it, just in case it decided to snap and fall into the ocean. Nobody wanted to be clinging onto it when that happened.

The Great Deeps had not been the wisest way to cross the ocean for Altiana, but Ivan was adamant. They couldn't waste any time, otherwise the _Freedom _and the _Queen Elizabeth _would be under the WNO's supervision and protected by the entire fleet by the time they arrived. Across the Great Deeps was the fastest way, but the crew had begun telling stories a few hours ago, and now it was all Ivan could do to keep their suspicions down.

As he stared out across the ocean he so loved, Ivan fancied he could see the black sails of the _Queen Elizabeth_, complete with his hammer-and-sickle flag, flying up ahead, taunting him, obviously out of reach. His hands gripped the railing so hard that the stray splinters of wood began to dig into his skin.

He turned, just in time to see Natalia fly up the deck, her boots somehow finding purchase on the sodden surface. She grabbed a flailing rope that had been left unattended, one that led up to the swaying mast, and went about securing it. She was strong, and was not averse to manual labour, although she rarely took part in it when there were others to do it for her. When it was important to her brother, however, she did it, no matter how hard it might be.

His other sister, Katyusha, wasn't helping. She was the Intelligence Officer, and was most likely down in her quarters with Raivis, plotting new courses, preparing for every eventuality. Katyusha wasn't as...creepily attached to Ivan was Natalia was, although they were as close as siblings could be. Ivan appreciated her unwavering honesty and her loyalty to him, although she had been spending a lot of time with Raivis lately.

There was nothing for him to do up here. The crew had it under control. Ivan was about to head back below, to someplace warm and dry, maybe with some food, when the pirate at the wheel cried out in pain. He was spinning it around, meeting almost unforgiving resistance, and the wooden spokes were nearly tearing the skin off his palms. He turned desperately to Ivan, who levelled him with an unimpressed, steely glare that was colder and more dangerous than the bullet-hard raindrops that were peppering the man's face. He returned to the front again, steering with renewed vigour, shivering underneath his many layers.

Nobody wanted to be victim to that kind of stare from Ivan.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

In the middle of the second week, after days of indecision and awkward silences and determinedly avoiding memories, Alfred walked into his quarters to find Arthur had pulled out a map from one of his desk drawers and had spread it out across the wooden surface. With the quill in one hand and a few splotches of ink on the other, he had scratched an X onto the paper directly in the middle of the Bay of Argril, and, as Alfred walked in now, marked another X, this time, at the bottom of Altiana. He was studying the positions so intently that Alfred almost felt like he shouldn't interrupt, but perhaps this was vital information.

He stepped forward, and the echo of his boot on the floor had Arthur spinning around and raising the quill as if he could use it as a weapon. However, when he saw it was only Alfred, he turned his back on him very deliberately, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Alfred had noticed he was doing that a lot lately, and he didn't seem to be sleeping much. After that one night, when he'd walked in on Arthur using his bed, there hadn't been another incident like it, much to Alfred's...disappointment, he guessed. He wouldn't have _minded _Arthur sleeping in his bed, as long as he got to do it too – not at the same time, of course, but perhaps they could've alternated. With nothing else to do in the cabin all day, though, Arthur was probably pretty antsy.

And he'd been really good, too. Apart from the first few times he'd try to murder Alfred and escape, he had been sitting quietly and not doing anything unexpected. But that was weird in itself – pirates were, by nature and by law, pretty ruthless. If one got captured, they'd do anything to either get out or commit suicide so they couldn't betray secrets. Arthur had been...confusing, to say the least, from the first moment Alfred had met him.

His eyes, too – now there was definitely something wrong with them. Before, a few flecks of green had been out of the ordinary, but nothing to panic about, except now the green was _very _pronounced. It was almost strange that Arthur was doing nothing to hide it, but it got Alfred wondering – was there something else going on here, something underneath the surface that he couldn't see? It would explain everything that had been happening, if only he knew what it was, and how it related to Arthur.

If Arthur was in any danger, that was.

Alfred took a few more steps until he was close enough to read the fine text on the map. "What are you doing?"

It was clear from Arthur's voice that he just wanted to be left alone with his thoughts. "Nothing. I'm not doing anything."

Alfred snorted. "That's a poor excuse and you know it. What's with the map?"

"If you didn't want me to take it, you should've locked your desk drawer," Arthur retorted shortly.

Alfred glanced at the cross in the Bay of Argril. "What's that? Is that the location of the other pirate ship? Do you know where they are?"

Arthur turned, coming face to face with Alfred. "I'm not telling you _anything_," he snapped, and this would've normally warranted a punch in the face and a few choice swear words, but it was like a soft, fuzzy blanket had been thrown over Alfred's ego and all he felt was a slight pang at the fact that Arthur was talking to him in such a hate-riddled voice.

Before Alfred could reply, Arthur was talking again. "I know you're well within WNO rights to torture me for this information," he continued, the very fact that he was so close making neurons in Alfred's brain fire off weird streams of data. "But I'd like to see you try."

_Oh, God, this just isn't going to work._

Alfred widened his eyes slightly. "I – I don't want to torture you."

Arthur blinked – he hadn't been expecting this, that was for certain. "W-what?"

Alfred tried to search for the right words, but his mind had temporarily deserted him. Taking a few staggering steps back, so at least he wasn't distracted, he turned away from Arthur and rubbed his temples. "I don't want to torture you. I don't want to do anything to you, I swear."

_Are you really going to tell this pirate everything_? the practical side of his brain screamed, but he ignored it.

"I just want to...to keep you safe. I don't want to do anything that might cause you harm, do you understand?" He was suddenly facing Arthur again, his blue eyes determined, his jaw set. For a moment, the pirate captain dropped his shields, unsure how to deal with this torrent of emotion from the enemy who'd imprisoned him – and finding that he wanted to hear more. "I don't know how to explain it to you, but over the days you've been here, you've become a part of my life, and I know this is stupid and this isn't the way it's supposed to go, but I think I like you."

He took a deep breath, ignoring the mantra of 'stupid' that was whirling around his thoughts, and clenched his fists. A pirate – of all the people in the world, a pirate! He was still reeling from the amount of irony, not to mention the amount of teasing he'd endure among the crew if this got out. About the crew – he wasn't even sure how _they'd _react. He'd always thought they were loyal to him – how could they not be, he was the hero! – but perhaps their aspirations for a successful career in the WNO were more important. And if it was, he wouldn't blame them, even though he wasn't sure how one could choose _that _over the adventure of a lifetime.

"Keep me...safe?" Arthur repeated slowly, as if he couldn't process the concept.

"Ah, I know, it sounds stupid!" Alfred walked away from him, feeling an overwhelming urge to bang his head against something hard and unyielding. "But this isn't a trick or something, I genuinely...like you, and I'm aware of the whole WNO-pirate thing! It's all I've been thinking about! But torture...torture is the absolute last thing I would subject you to."

Arthur looked across at the _Freedom's_ captain, all eager eyes and a desperate expression and a stupid little strand of hair that stuck up from his scalp, and felt nothing but fear.

Fear because he didn't know how to respond. This was nothing he'd ever expected. He hated Alfred with a passion, a passion that made him want to fly at him and tear his eyes out, but those weren't his feelings. He knew that now, and he didn't know how he _truly _felt for Alfred, and so he didn't know what to tell him.

They were...someone else's emotions, given to him and willingly received, although why was something he didn't know. So he just stood there, staring at Alfred, and trying to sort out the conflicted feelings that were clashing with each other in the middle of his chest.

He wasn't an object of love interest. Nobody fell in love with him. But he couldn't remember...that was the scary part. Ever since being taken on board the _Freedom_, and having his ship captured, and being confined to these two rooms – he'd been so confused. It was like the life he'd known had fled from him and he was left with dim memories, slight suggestions, and no end of déjà vu. If only he could talk to his crew, he could ask them what was going on, demand an explanation! But there was no way Alfred would let him do that.

He'd paced these loaned quarters, practically tore his hair out, studied his eyes continuously in the mirror, and when Alfred had asked, had avoided the questions, because he literally _didn't know. _There had been no easy way to say that he had no idea, that he was actually just finding out the answers right now, when he was supposed to be the fearless captain of the pirate vessel _Queen Elizabeth._

The _Queen Elizabeth _he did remember. And his father, he remembered him, too. He _had_ been killed by the WNO, and he had left his ship for Arthur, but after that, everything was a blur. However, Arthur got the sense that he was beginning to recollect certain things. Sometimes he got visions of purple eyes, just like his own, and he would absent-mindedly run his hand across his chest, and there would be a sharp pain as if someone had cut him, and he would retract his hand as if he'd been burned.

He needed time, that was all. Time to figure it out. But Alfred wasn't giving him time.

He tried to turn away, to try to convey to Alfred without words that now wasn't really the best time, _he was too confused to do this_, but Alfred lunged forwards and caught his arm.

"No, please," he pleaded, all previous WNO bravado gone, just a normal guy who was trying to express his feelings. "I'll show you, I will."

And with that, he slipped his hand into Arthur's, who clenched it unconsciously, and led him out of the door, down the corridor, out of the cabin that had been his life for the past week or so, and up onto the deck.

Arthur had no idea what he was doing, but he followed, because Alfred felt like the sort of person he could trust – Alfred was the guy who, when he asked you to trust him, you did, just because you felt so safe around him. So Arthur didn't pull away, against his better judgement, and he revelled in the feeling of Alfred's palm pressed against his, and when they emerged onto the deck, he didn't try to run away and put space between them.

It was night-time, the sky above a perfect dark navy, with the most beautiful stars spread out across it in patterns that Arthur had never seen before. A slight wind was blowing through the sails, and it was welcoming after the warm stuffiness of Alfred's quarters. He raised his head to the sky, revelling in the fresh air, and let all his troubles just leak from his mind.

Alfred's hand was still in his, and he realised that he hadn't even been shackled before the _Freedom's _captain had brought him above deck. The meaning of this was clear, but Arthur wasn't sure how to react to this. The obvious thing would be to trust Alfred and not try to fling himself over the side, but there was no need to worry about that – he didn't want to. It was so peaceful, and it seemed the only populated place in the world, here in the middle of the ocean, that all thoughts that entered his mind were devoid of violence and war.

There were only a few crewmembers on duty, for which Arthur was glad, and all they did was cast him a few confused looks before continuing on their way. The presence of Alfred was enough to reassure them that nothing was wrong, that Arthur hadn't come up here of his own accord.

Arthur studied the billowing sails, and the smooth railings, and the perfect state of the _Freedom_, lovingly restored after its battle with the _Queen Elizabeth. _He remembered the second day he had been captured, when he was still fuming and still thinking over the battle and what had gone wrong, when he had heard Alfred shouting orders above, telling his men to fix the ship, no matter what. He had listened, and, unbidden, respect and trust had begun to blossom in his chest. It was partly to do with the fact that Alfred had never pushed him, never tried to gain information, but had left Arthur to do his own thing. The privacy had allowed the pirate captain to try to retrieve his own memories as they began to fade and build a sketchy portrait of what his life was right now. And he'd felt that, when he put it all together, there was really no hatred for Alfred within his soul. They were someone else's feelings, he had surmised, and he listened to Alfred's orders, filtered through wood and glass from the deck above, with renewed vigour. He compared the commands to that which he would make, and he found that they had something in similar – the way they thought, at least, even if that wasn't their personalities which were compatible. And that feeling of respect and trust had grown, until it was so big that he couldn't ignore it, and now, up above in the wind and with the beautiful sky above him, Arthur felt truly calm.

His eyes flashed a pure green.

He stepped forward, closer to Alfred, and began, in halting, stuttering sentences, to try to explain how he felt. He was just as confused as the other man, but at least he had an actual reason for doing so. With the celestial bodies of stars staring down on him and the dark waters expanding for miles in every direction, Arthur poured out his heart, to the one person who had ever managed to truly touch it, and bring him back from the brink of darkness over which he had been hovering for all his life.

As Arthur talked, Alfred began to glow, his mouth stretching into a delighted smile, his eyes burning with the heat of his forbidden emotions, and his skin radiating relief that Arthur seemed to feel the same way as he did, if his patchy sentences were anything to go by. He was deliberately avoiding Alfred's eyes, staring intently at anything inanimate that couldn't stare back at him, but Alfred remedied this by reaching out and tilting Arthur's chin gently, so he could look into his eyes.

Those eyes...but no, now wasn't the time for suspicions. He could ask later, maybe even help Arthur figure it out. Now, all that mattered was this moment, frozen in time, and what actions Alfred was going to take next.

He leant forwards, his eyes fluttering closed, feeling the minute resistance that Arthur put up and then pulled down again within seconds, and there were fireworks in his stomach –

Arthur felt a presence in the back of his mind, and he tried to push it away, because this was his moment now, but there was that being with the purple gaze and the pain in his chest, and he froze, forgetting where he was and who he was. There was a moment of darkness, and then light sliced through his skull, but instead of bringing pain, it brought warmth and kindness and an order that he knew he had to carry out. So he opened his eyes, and instead of being the green that so suited him, they were a blazing violet, not one fleck of emerald amongst them.

Alfred didn't notice this. His eyes were closed, and he was too lost in the moment. Arthur knew he couldn't arouse suspicion, that if he let Alfred do this, he would trust him enough, so he waited until the other man had closed the distance and brought his lips against Arthur's.

_Our first kiss_, Arthur thought bitterly, _and I hate him with a vengeance. _

Their first kiss, and he wasn't even himself to witness it. He felt nothing, not even as Alfred's cheek grazed his, or as his lips covered his – all he was focused on was escaping, and maybe harming somebody in the process. If he could just get to the _Queen Elizabeth_, and down to the brig, and free his crewmembers...it sounded so simple in his head.

His hand wandered down, trying to stay as nonchalant as possible, pressing against Alfred's chest for a second before resuming. He felt a flash of panic as his fingers grasped nothing but empty air, but he tried one more time, and they landed on the cold, hard steel of the sword handle, currently housed in the sheath hanging from Alfred's belt.

He tightened his grip on it, and pulled, jerking away as he did so, breaking the kiss as unceremoniously as he could. Pure hate twisted his features, until he was no longer the Arthur that Alfred had come to know and very possibly love, but another Arthur – one ruled by another.

The sword he held in front of him glinted in the light thrown by the lanterns.

"What...what are you doing?" Alfred stammered, complete shock and betrayal showing itself in his expression.

Arthur didn't reply, but instead twirled the blade in his hand once, testing it. His eyes were reflected in the shiny surface, and Alfred noticed them immediately. "What are – what's wrong with your eyes? They're...they look..."

_Kill him. Kill him now._

Ivan was pushing so hard that he wasn't allowing any room for error. If Arthur could fight back, he would, but Ivan had completely taken over his mind, and the orders he was giving were being obeyed, if not by Arthur's consciousness, then by his body.

Arthur darted forwards, bring the rapier round and then up. Alfred jumped back, all the while trying to figure out what had happened to make Arthur's attitude change so suddenly. One moment, they were kissing, and it was the happiest moment of Alfred's life, but now Arthur had stolen his sword, and it was like...

Oh, God, please don't let it be a masquerade.

He wanted so badly to believe that Arthur loved him back, but now his very beliefs were being pulled into question. He felt overwhelmed as he tried to dodge the attacks the pirate before him was unleashing, and he needed his wits about him, but he just couldn't focus.

_Does this mean he doesn't love me? Was this all a ploy to get a weapon? Then I played right into his hands, I did – this is all my fault. I'm so _stupid.

Arthur brought the sword up and was about to bring it crashing down onto Alfred's shoulder when another blade quickly intercepted it. Both men looked up in surprise at Yao, his arm outstretched, holding one of his favourite swords, long dark hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. He must've overheard the exchange and then rushed to Alfred's rescue when he knew it had gone wrong.

Arthur's eyebrows narrowed and he snarled, pulling the rapier away and abruptly engaging Yao. Yao twisted until he was in front of Alfred, in a protective stance that Alfred recognized as being one he often used.

More WNO officers were emerging, hearing the clash of metal and knowing it to be swords from their many experiences. Seeing Yao and Arthur fighting, they instantly drew their own weapons, some daggers, some pistols or muskets, but all aimed directly for the pirate.

"No! Stop!" Alfred screamed, lunging forwards as they formed a circle around the two battling men. "_Don't shoot_!"

He elbowed his way to the front, but he wasn't in time. One man darted forwards, cuffing Arthur on the back of the head, while another knocked Alfred's sword out of his hand. Vash gripped his hair as he fell, and brought the barrel of his gun up to press against Arthur's forehead.

"_STOP!" _Alfred screeched.

The fighting ground to a halt. Everyone turned to look at Alfred in surprise. He'd never taken that sort of tone with them before. He stood before them, panting, before striding forward and pushing Vash's gun away, faltering for a moment as Arthur's lavender irises found his. Then he was grabbing a pair of handcuffs from another sailor, and shackling Arthur's hands together behind his back, his movements rough and his expression stubbornly vacant the whole time.

Arthur stumbled, and fell against him, and Alfred pushed him away so harshly that he had to lean against the railing of the ship to regain his balance. The electricity between the two of them was literally crackling in the air. Arthur was staring at Alfred with bloodlust, while the other was determinedly not showing any feelings at all.

Captain Jones turned for a moment to his crew, who were all standing there, looking rather confused and still on the alert in case Arthur managed to escape again.

"We need him _alive_," Alfred shouted, the slight trembling of his hands indicating how much emotion he was holding back. "If any one of you shoots him, I'll put you in the brig with the pirates!"

There was a very pregnant silence as he pulled Arthur away, back down underneath the deck and to his quarters, not gracing any of them with so much as a glance. Vash put his gun back in his holster, looking rather disgruntled, and Yao sheathed his sword.

The moment Alfred reached his quarters, he kicked open the door and threw Arthur in, without bothering to remove the handcuffs, and slammed the door behind him. This time, it wasn't due to some childish need to have the last word, to end an argument on his terms – this time, the reason was much more mature.

He was so goddamn _angry. _The whole thing, he had fallen for it! Arthur, like the low and disgusting pirate he was, had manipulated him, and made his bid for freedom, and even though it had failed, Alfred felt like such an _idiot. _The sooner he was back in Striga and had dumped Arthur at the WNO Headquarters, the better. He needed to get as far away from that guy as possible.

Still, though...there was a tiny part of him, deep down in his heart, that still retained hope. That perhaps everything had been a misunderstanding, as obvious as it all was. And that hopeful part, once again, brought the matter of Arthur's eyes to Alfred's attention. There had to be something going on with that. Maybe it was the key to this whole thing! And even if Arthur still hated him, and that _had _been his strategy for regaining control of the _Queen Elizabeth_, then at least he'd have a proper explanation, and he'd feel better about the whole thing.

Alfred arrived at the general bunks of the officers, and slipped through the gently swinging hammocks until he found Smith's, the ship's residential doctor. Despite the lateness of the hour, he was awake, using a candle to highlight certain passages in a thick, leather-bound book he had propped up on his stomach. He glanced over at Alfred absent-mindedly, and, recognising his silhouette, dropped the candle and spilled out of the hammock, snapping to attention the minute he regained his balance. The book fell out of his lap and onto the floor, a few pages crumpling underneath its weight.

"Sir!" Smith seemed to blush, but Alfred couldn't detect much in the candlelight. He stood straight and when he spoke, his voice was so distant and hard and so very much not-Alfred that Smith was confused for a moment as to who was talking.

"The pirate in my quarters," Alfred began. "Something's wrong. I don't know what, but I want you to go have a look at his eyes."

"His eyes, sir?" Smith asked, bemused.

"Yes, his eyes!" Alfred snapped, and Smith started. "Just examine them, and tell me if there's anything wrong. That's all you need to do, is that clear?"

"Y-yes, sir," Smith answered, staring straight ahead.

"Good." Alfred turned and made his way out, wishing that he was somewhere far, far away from here, where there weren't crewmembers at every turn and a scheming pirate in his quarters – somewhere that he could sit and relax in peace.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Smith had been diligent in his duties, and had examined Arthur's eyes, per Alfred's request. Alfred knew that he would have to go down sometime – he couldn't live the rest of the journey up on the deck. He was descending the stairs when he met the ship's doctor coming in the opposite direction.

"Sir!" Smith immediately stopped. "Sir, I examined the pirate, just like you told me to. There doesn't seem to be anything wrong, sir. If there was a specific thing that I could search for...?"

He trailed off meaningfully, but Alfred just shook his head. "No, it's nothing. I was...I must've been confused last night. Thanks anyway."

He wasn't about to tell anyone about his suspicions. After what had happened the previous night, he was feeling more of an idiot than ever, and he really didn't think that more ridiculing would help his situation at all. Pausing and taking a deep breath before barging in, Alfred had his hand on his sword and his pistol loaded before he even set eyes on Arthur.

Nobody had taken the handcuffs off him, and Alfred hadn't ordered them to. Before he walked in, Arthur had been perched on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor in contemplation, but now he leapt to his feet, moving swiftly forwards with his connected hands outstretched in a gesture of pacification. Alfred averted his eyes from the pale face in front of him and brushed Arthur, not too gently, away, heading for his desk and the item he'd decided he desperately needed.

"Alfred!" Arthur lunged forwards again, his fingers grasping at Alfred's sleeve. "Alfred, please listen to me! I'm sorry! I don't know what came over me –"

"Get off me," Alfred growled, trying to jerk away from Arthur's grip, but the pirate hung on determinedly, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on the other man's face.

"Alfred," he pleaded softly. "Please, believe me, that never should've happened! I meant everything I said up there, and you know it! Just stop and listen to me!"

Alfred spun around, so suddenly that Arthur's hold on his coat was dislodged. He was positively radiating with anger, and when he spoke, it concealed a thousand threats and insults that he wanted nothing more than to hurl at Arthur then and there.

"Don't be stupid," he hissed. "I don't care whether you meant to do it or not! I can't trust you anymore!" And halfway through that sentence, his voice changed, from the furious grown-up to the rejected little child. "I don't know _what _you thought you were doing, but stop assuming you can just apologise and then we can pick up from where we left off!"

Arthur, although he had been offended by this, had the good grace to look ashamed. "I'm not saying I'm expecting that to happen, all I want you to do is listen!"

"While you offer up some cock-and-bull story to mask your escape attempt? Not likely," the other scoffed, before deciding to abandon this and heading for the door. There were plenty of spare hammocks down in the officers' bunks – hell, he could even throw Arthur in the brig and get his room back. But at the moment, he just needed to be left alone, and that _also_ included traitorous pirate captains.

Arthur pursued him to the door, even going so far as to scream his name through the wood when it was shut and bolted, before yelling out in irritation and desperation. The chain connecting the handcuffs jangled distractedly as he collapsed in the middle of the floor, clutching at his hair while slowly rocking back and forth. He hadn't done that by himself, he _hadn't_! It was fair enough that Alfred was mad at him, but not to even stop and listen? It was true, all of it – it had been his hand that had reached out and stolen the sword, but it hadn't been his intent! Someone else was moving him, someone else was controlling him, just like he was a puppet on a string, and he hated that even more than Alfred's stubbornness.

* * *

_Ivan can sense all of this through their link, and he knows it's weakening. Arthur was obtaining self-awareness, and, in the process, whether knowingly or not, was shutting him out. Soon he wouldn't even be able to hear the pirate's thoughts! He stands, and paces his cabin, tugging at his hair in rage and desperation. However, reassurance came to him in the form of a memory, one that showed Natalia telling him that they were hardly a day away from the _Freedom _and the _Queen Elizabeth_ and that his crew was ready for battle and eager to go. He knows that Captain Jones' pathetic crew can't possible stand up against the might of an experienced pirate vessel such as his, especially when they were joined by the pirate prisoners down in the _Freedom_'s brig. He'll set them free, and then they'll join him, because although they serve Arthur, they are loyal to him alone._

_He smiles. It will be nice to see Toris again. _

_And he knows what he's going to do. He can already see it in his mind, as clear as day, or as clear as foresight can be. He can see himself re-establishing the connection with Arthur, seeing his eyes glow pure, unaltered violet again, and then ordering him to kill that brainwashed swine, Alfred Jones. The captain of the _Freedom _would cease to be, and the WNO would fall, and then Ivan would rule._

_He closes his eyes. Yes, his foresight is clear. This should happen, and it _will _happen._

* * *

As the next morning dawned, the man in the crow's nest onboard the _Freedom_ shouted out a warning. Everyone halted in their tracks, from where they were either emerging or retreating back down, and glanced towards the direction in which he was frantically pointing. Alfred had spent the night at the wheel, with the excuse to the normal watch that he couldn't sleep, and was one of the first among his crewmates to spot it.

He turned around, and squinted past the bulky shape of the _Queen Elizabeth_, where Francis, Ludwig and Feliciano had all gathered on the stern of the ship and were staring in the same direction he was. Silhouetted against the rising sun, illuminated by dark blue and dusky pink and bright orange, was the outline of a ship. Even from the distance between them, Alfred could clearly make out the dark purple dye of the sails, the colour the Generals had warned him about.

His brain momentarily blank, he moved away from the wheel until he had a clear line of sight of the other ship. He fished his telescope out of his pocket and extended it, peering through the circular lens. With the light streaming in from behind it, the mysterious vessel wasn't thrown into any better detail, but the flag was hard to miss – the hammer and sickle, like the one that was currently tied to the _Queen Elizabeth_'s mast.

"Oh, God," he breathed. "They found us."

The deck was silent.

* * *

Down below, in Alfred's quarters, Arthur peered through the glass, his eyes narrowing in a desperate attempt to identify what was going on. The emerging sunlight shone through, and he shielded his eyes for a moment, but a few seconds was all he needed to trigger the déjà vu that swarmed his memory. He _knew_ that ship...he even knew its name! Such an appropriate name...

And the devil was on that ship.

_Oh, my...I have to tell Alfred!_

He whirled around, and was about to run for the door, when something made him screech to a halt, in the centre of the room.

_**Arthur, dear, think about what you're doing.**_

He shook his head in confusion, raising his hands to press over his ears, but that voice wasn't in the room, it was in his mind, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't not listen to it.

_**You'd be betraying us. You'd be betraying yourself. Don't tell him.**_

_What...what are you...?_

_**Stop and stay where you are. Be quiet and stay where you are. I will come and get you. But don't tell him **_**anything.**

_Shut UP!_

"Alfred!" Arthur screamed, his body unfreezing and his legs immediately bolting for the door. He slammed his fist into the wood, again and again, even kicking it as hard as he could, making the biggest racket he could manage. "Alfred, I have to tell you something! That ship! Please, let me tell you!"

It was so quiet up above that his voice filtered through the corridor and exploded onto the deck of the _Freedom_, making Alfred jump in surprise. Arthur's voice seemed so close that Alfred genuinely thought that he had somehow escaped and was here in person, but a quick survey of the men and women gathered beside him showed that that was impossible.

He had told himself never to listen to Arthur again, but it was so hard, when the raw anxiety in Arthur's voice was so tangible he could almost feel it himself. Maybe Arthur had seen the error of his ways, seen what he'd done wrong...no, Alfred couldn't afford to think like that! He couldn't pull himself up only to be let down again. But he was walking towards the stairs, as if he was in a dream, like Arthur was literally pulling him, and the crew was parting before him like the Red Sea before Moses.

Arthur stared at his glowing fingertips until he heard footsteps heading towards the door. He hadn't meant to use this magic, but before he could stop, it had just exploded out of him, along with all the other feelings writhing and kicking in his chest. His voice had become smoother, more melodic, and although he had been screeching, even he could detect the notes in it that made it become that much more attractive. He was drawing Alfred to him, but there wasn't much else he _could _do.

The moment the _Freedom_'s captain entered, Arthur was on him, forcing his body to extinguish the magic but holding Alfred down with the strength of his embrace. He wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck and pulled him down, kissing the other with as much passion and love and emotion that he could muster. For a few seconds, Alfred didn't respond – his face was still vacantly dreamy from the effect of Arthur's magic, but then he realised where he was, and what was going on, and he was going to push Arthur away –

Alfred's hands snaked around to grip Arthur's waist, tugging him forwards, responding in the kiss with as much unpredictability as Arthur had ensnared him. There was a beautiful moment when there was nothing but heat and skin and lips but then Arthur forced himself to pull back. His face was flushed, and his heartbeat was thundering in his ears, and Alfred didn't look any more composed.

"Alfred," Arthur began, panting slightly. "I love you, I love you, please believe me. I swear, to every god in the sky that I love you." He paused to catch his breath. "You need to be careful. That ship out there, it's –"

Suddenly, he stopped talking, and his eyes went wide. Alfred stared at him in concern. It was obvious from his expression and the way his hands had started to shake that there was an intense battle going on in Arthur's mind, and he was using every resource he had to fight it.

"I can't..." he whispered, his voice trembling, and Alfred leant closer. "I can't...he's got me..."

Alfred frowned. "Who's _he_? Arthur? Arthur, are you alright?"

With a moan, Arthur sagged in his arms, and Alfred wasn't sure whether he'd lost or won. But then Arthur looked up at him, and Alfred's heart sank down to his boots, because Arthur's eyes were that hateful lavender colour again, and he wasn't himself.

But at least Alfred knew that now – knew that whenever that happened, it wasn't Arthur, it was a demon using Arthur's face, and _he loves me, he loves me_ and he knew that whatever it took, he would find out what was happening to his pirate and stop it.

"Don't worry," he murmured, reaching up and gently stroking Arthur's hair. The smaller man was clutching at his arm, breathing hard, his whole body tense from where it was pressed up against Alfred's. "I'll be careful. I promise I'll be careful."

* * *

Ivan had been aware of everything, from the minute Arthur had rejected his influence for the first time to when he'd used his powers by himself. Surrounded by Natalia and Katyusha on the _Red Bear_'s deck, with Raivis holding his telescope, he'd pushed himself past the limits he'd set for himself long ago, and almost lost his grip on his mind. He'd done it, though – he'd prevented Arthur leaking valuable information about his ship, and his crew, and especially him, but it had cost him every last drop of the magic within him, and his connection with Arthur. As the thin thread linking them broke, his eyes rolled back into his head and Captain Ivan Braginski fell to the deck unconscious, his sister Natalia's scream the last thing he heard before blackness rose up and engulfed him.

Arthur woke with a gasp, and immediately checked his surroundings. He was still in Alfred's cabin, and he was immensely relieved. He hadn't been out of it for more than a few moments, but his handcuffs were off and even though the door had been relocked, Arthur knew that Alfred had done it for everyone's safety, rather than because he still didn't trust him.

And Arthur was _himself _again. The man who had fallen in love with the WNO captain, and had fought so hard against Ivan's control because he wanted to actually say how he felt, who had initiated the kiss between himself and the supposed enemy of the pirates, he was back, and he was not going away again.

Arthur stood and pulled on his coat, brushing his hair back from his forehead and looking around for a weapon. He found it, much to his surprise – his sword, in its sheath, was lying on Alfred's desk, and it most definitely hadn't been there before. He picked it up and reattached it to his belt, thanking his lucky stars that he wasn't going to be left to defend himself with nothing.

* * *

Alfred didn't dare take his eyes off the _Red Bear. _There was barely any wind, so at least Nature wasn't taking a side, but the malicious shape seemed to be getting closer. It made sense, of course – the _Freedom _was attached to the _Queen Elizabeth_ and it was slowing them down quite a bit, but Alfred didn't like the fact that this other ship was faster. As it approached, the details became finer, until Alfred could almost see the crew moving around on the deck, getting ready for the inevitable fight. The distance between them shortened, and, as it did so, the sky began to darken, menacing, bruise-coloured clouds crowding over them and a bitter wind whipping down from the heavens. The first crack of thunder generated the first whispers onboard the _Freedom,_ whispers about a devil ship, with Satan at its wheel and an army of fallen angels at his command.

Slowly, slowly, the _Red Bear _inched closer, and Alfred found himself pacing, double- and triple-checking details. His men were ready for battle, but it only took a few glances at their faces to see that they were scared. They'd only lost a few men when they'd battled the _Queen Elizabeth_, but this time, they didn't have the upper hand, and the enemy was probably much more experienced. It was on an even playing field, and Alfred didn't like this.

* * *

Ivan woke fifteen minutes later, still lying on the hard wooden deck of the _Red Bear. _Natalia, Katyusha and Raivis were huddled around his prone figure, their brows creased with worry, Natalia having taken advantage of the situation and started stroking his forehead. He pushed her hand away, and everyone immediately drew back, giving him space to stand.

As he straightened, he staggered – reaching out, his hand landed on Katyusha's shoulder, and she helped to steady him. He flexed his free hand, and when none of the tingles that were associated with his magic ran down his arm, he knew that he was all out. If he still had the link with Arthur, he could've leached some power from him, but as it happened, he was on his own.

The moment he had regained his balance, he grabbed a telescope from someone nearby and strode to the bow of his vessel, extending it and searching the horizon for the _Freedom._ They were still there, thankfully, and closer than ever – so close that he could even pick out Captain Jones' face from the crowd, giving orders while absent-mindedly stroking the hilt of his sword. A smile tugged at Ivan's face as he contemplated the size of the ship, accounting for the amount of people on it. The _Queen Elizabeth _had drifted to the side, leaving the pirates and the WNO officers with a clear line of sight of each other. There would undoubtedly be a few men on Arthur's ship, as well, but he knew where the pirates were being held – it was obvious where they had been put. He could control this, but he would need some aid, and he knew exactly where to get that.

He turned, and saw Natalia standing behind him, patiently awaiting his orders.

"We need to do this as quickly as possible," he began to explain. "I want to avoid the unnecessary bloodshed of my crew; we shall need their strength for afterwards. This needs to be clean."

As he spoke, Natalia's face fell, until she was staring at him with a mixture of disgruntlement and sullenness. He stopped talking, vaguely irritated. "What is it, sister?"

She stepped closer to him, her hand brushing along the length of the dagger in her belt. "I want to kill them, brother, kill them all! You would deny me that?"

He gave her a stern look. "Patience, Natalia. Didn't I promise you blood?"

She nodded reluctantly. "Yes, brother, you did."

He smiled. "Good. Now, go to my cabin, and fetch the chalk."

She spun around and ran down the stairs, her boots thudding on the steps. Katyusha and Raivis stood to the side, occasionally exchanging whispers as Ivan returned to the centre of the deck, which was the biggest clear space. He knelt there until Natalia returned, a stick of powdery white chalk clutched in her fist. He took it and drew a circle on the planks beneath him, a clear, perfect circle which indicated that he'd done this many times before. He separated the circle into six segments, before drawing strange, unknown symbols in each one. The crew, gathered above deck, watched in silence, being familiar with their captain's procedure. Natalia scrutinised her brother's work carefully, under orders to point out any mistakes, but she found none, and when he had finished, Ivan sat back, placing the stick of chalk to one side and pressing his right palm in the centre of the sphere.

He closed his eyes, and a sudden wind sprang up from the sea, whipping his hair back from his forehead and flapping his loose clothing in the breeze. Ivan began whispering at first, the words barely audible, until his voice rose in volume to a full-on chant, completely incomprehensible but absolutely guaranteed to work. The circle, and the symbols, glowed yellow, shining through the marks as if it was being projected from underneath, and tendrils of purple lazily rose into the sky, passing the sails and the mast and almost touching the clouds before plunging downwards, striking Ivan himself with an awesome power. His whole figure shone for a moment, a procedure which Natalia watched devotedly but the others turned away from, the light being too much for their retinas to handle.

Over on the _Freedom_, Alfred saw the curling pillars of purple rising from the enemy's ship, and although he didn't know what was going on, he felt a sudden wave of anticipation. Perhaps he had bitten off more than he could chew with these particular pirates, but it was too late to turn back now. They were so close, so close...

"_Alfred_," Arthur's voice rang in his ears, and, for a moment, an image of his face passed in front of Alfred's cerulean eyes. "_Be careful_."

Alfred gritted his teeth, cocked his pistol, and, at that moment, a towering wave of pure, undiluted _darkness _erupted from the _Red Bear, _rippling the amethyst sails violently and soaring into the air like a bird in flight before diving downwards and skimming the tops of the gently rolling waves. It shot across the expanse of water, faster than a bullet from a gun, and Alfred barely had enough time to shout, "_take cover_!" before it hit the two vessels with a brutal shockwave.

The _Freedom _and the _Queen Elizabeth _rocked backwards, upsetting the water aggressively. The darkness moved right through the crafts, dissipating the moment it reached the other side, having passed through every living and inanimate thing onboard. Everyone alive was blasted backwards, smashing into the railings or the mast, while everything that wasn't was left untouched, exactly the way it had been before.

In the brig of the _Queen Elizabeth, _the pirates began dropping, their eyes fluttering closed and their bodies collapsing right onto the dirty floor. Toris and Eduard had only a moment to look at each other in panic before they, too, were forced into unconsciousness, slumping against the wall and each other.

Ivan's eyes were shut tight in concentration, his whole body vibrating with the sheer power emanating from it. His hands were extended in front of him, clapped tightly together, and the streams of black were flowing from his fingertips. It was taking all of his strength not to terminate the link now, and to fight back the self-preservation instinct, because he could simply _feel _that it wasn't done yet. The _Red Bear _rocked slightly, propelled backwards a few metres by the force coming from her captain.

A few seconds later, Ivan's eyes flew open and he turned white, his legs giving out and his knees hitting the deck with an ugly sound. Natalia darted forwards, but Ivan was already on his feet without her help, and stumbling to the railing of the ship, intent on seeing the result.

Alfred swayed on his feet for a moment, his heartbeat racing, before falling backwards. His brain warped everything, so disoriented by the influence of a kind of supernatural authority it had never encountered before, and it felt like he was falling through syrup.

He hit the floor, his head slamming against it, before his vision turned black, as black as the strange wave that had knocked him over.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Alfred? Alfred! Alfred, wake up!"

"Captain, please, wake up!"

Alfred groaned, groggily shaking his throbbing head from side to side, trying to regain his senses. He opened his eyes, and immediately closed them again, in protest against the sheer amount of light that was streaming past the two figures kneeling over him.

"Francis?" he mumbled, and he felt a palm press against his forehead. "What are you...doing here? You should be...on the _Queen Elizabeth._"

There was something unidentifiable in Francis' tone. "Alfred, the _Queen Elizabeth _is gone."

All self-sympathetic feelings gone, Alfred shot upwards, almost crashing into Ludwig, who was sitting on his opposite side. The two officers tried to calm him down, but he was on his feet in seconds, having used Francis's coat to yank himself up. Ludwig threaded an arm around his captain's waist, helping to keep him upright.

"Gone?" Alfred stammered. "Where? What happened?"

Thankfully, the _Freedom _was still beneath his feet. Various crewmembers were either picking themselves off the floor or hurrying around and taking care of those who still had yet to wake up. The ship didn't appear to be damaged, but it was in an obvious state of disarray. And, sure enough, when Alfred looked around, they were the only presence on the sea. All around them, there was nothing but water and sky, no trace of the _Queen Elizabeth _or the other ship that had been chasing them. He raised a hand and ran it through his hair distractedly.

Where could they have gone? Well, that depended on how long they had been out, of course. Everyone seemed to be alright, only a few minor bruises and bumps, and Smith could easily take care of those. Alfred had to admit, it was nice to have Francis and Ludwig back with him – he'd missed them over the past week or so. Of course, he'd had Arthur...

He turned frantically, grabbing Francis's jacket and yanking him forwards until they were face-to-face. "Is Arthur alright? Is he okay?"

Shocked at Alfred's sudden movements, Francis opened his mouth to reply, but Alfred didn't stay to listen. Whatever the answer was, he had to see for himself. He ducked under Ludwig's restraining arm and thundered down the stairs, not stopping until he reached his quarters. Fumbling with the key, he thrust it into the lock and pushed the door open so hard that it smashed into the wall behind. A few splinters rained down onto the floor.

Arthur was gone.

Alfred heard the silence, but he refused to accept it. He stormed into the room, a tornado wreaking messiness, and overturned anything big enough for Arthur to be hiding behind. He even shook out the blankets on the bed, just in case Arthur had fallen asleep there. But he just wasn't there.

Standing in the middle of the space, trinkets and feathers spread around him, Alfred suddenly felt lost. He couldn't explain the feeling – it was most like having half of his heart cut out, taken away and hidden. Arthur was gone, most likely on the ship that had taken the _Queen Elizabeth_, and he might be dead already.

Alfred sank to the ground and buried his face in his hands. His brain helpfully supplied him with all the most recent images he had of Arthur – most specifically, the kiss they had shared just before Alfred had left and _locked him in _to go up and fight.

Except they hadn't gotten around to much fighting. He had no idea who was on board that vessel, but he would need a lot more than just cannons and pistols to defeat it.

At least they were still alive, though, and if they were, then Arthur probably was, too. Alfred couldn't even begin to guess where he might've been taken, though, and that was the part that discouraged him the most. What if he never found Arthur again?

No. No, he couldn't afford to think like that. It was obvious that Arthur had been kidnapped by the other captain, so if he traced _him _down, he could at least find out what happened to Arthur.

And deep inside him, in a part of his heart that he rarely paid attention to, he made a promise to find Arthur, no matter what.

Back up on deck, Francis and Ludwig observed Alfred with undisguised sympathy. He patted sailors on their shoulders, told them he was proud of them, and helped them up and back to work, but his dazed expression and empty eyes told tales of a hollow soul.

Francis stepped forward. "We can determine its direction, I'm sure. It will just take a while."

Alfred nodded slowly. "Yeah. Except they probably weren't stupid enough to leave any traces, not with something like that on board."

He turned away from his two friends and walked over to the _Freedom_'s railings, staring down into the gently rippling cerulean water. He had nowhere to go. He would've followed the _Red Bear _immediately if he'd even known what heading they'd taken, but he _didn't_, and he didn't know what to _do. _All he wanted to do was slam his fist against the wooden planks and let loose with a torrent of curses, but he just didn't have the energy. Arthur's absence was draining him, physically and mentally, and Alfred hung his head, letting strands of golden hair fall over his face, and just didn't think.

Francis glanced at Ludwig, who just shrugged his shoulders, and returned his gaze to Alfred's rounded back. Neither could think of anything comforting to say. Francis knew that they would have to return to Striga sometime, to tell the Generals that they had failed and that there was a much darker presence on the high seas than they had originally thought, and to ready the fleet, but for the moment, he could tell that Alfred didn't need the weight of responsibility added to the load on his shoulders.

Alfred's eyes were just drifting, focussing on nothing in particular, when he noticed an odd black blotch in the water directly next to the _Freedom_'s hull. He frowned, and blinked, quickly regaining his normal sight to take a closer look. Bending over the railing, he tilted his head in confusion.

It was small, and looked a bit like a sea urchin, only it had smaller spikes and seemed to be glowing a faint purple. Purple was associated with all sorts of things in Alfred's memory – most recently, Arthur's flickering eyes.

Without taking his eyes off the thing, whatever it was, lest he accidentally lose it, Alfred called over his shoulder, "Francis? Do we still have a few fishing nets down in storage?"

Francis, to his credit, did not question this. "I think so, sir – shall I go fetch one?"

"Please." Alfred didn't know what this thing was, but on the off-chance it might be some sort of clue as to the direction that the _Red Bear _had taken – although, how that might happen, he had no idea. He couldn't think of anyone in the crew of the _Queen Elizabeth _who might take the risk and betray this strange force that had incapacitated them all...they were pirates, they didn't have a sense of honour or righteousness or good.

Alfred was still puzzling over it by the time Francis had returned with the fishing net and had tossed it overboard, hauling the strange glowing thing up and onto the deck. It lay there harmlessly – obviously it was some kind of plant, judging from its reaction with the water. As soon as it had begun to dry off, it turned a neutral sort of black, and began to steam gently in the sun.

Alfred poked it, and got a nasty prick from one of the spikes, but other than that, it didn't seem to be dangerous, like an incendiary device left behind by the _Red Bear. _He picked it up, handling it carefully, and held his hand out in an unspoken request for the rest of the crew to try to analyse it.

"Ve." Feliciano sounded disappointed. "It stopped glowing."

"Hmm," Yao considered it, bending down until his eyes were level with it. He reached out and gently turned it over, ignoring Alfred's wince as another spike broke the skin of his palm. "See here – it's been cut from its stem, so it must not be native to the area. It might've been dropped overboard a supply ship, but I've never seen anything like it."

Roderich shook his head. "Definitely not native. Elizaveta and I went swimming one day in the Narvid Sea, a while back, and we saw loads of these littering the seabed. We asked around about them in the local village, and apparently they only grow there. It's something to do with the altering hot- and cold-water currents. They were glowing like that, as well. It was really quite pretty."

Elizaveta took over. "According to scientists who've examined them, there's a chemical contained in their spikes that reacts with water while it's in liquid form and sets about a chain reaction that ends up with this glowing. They're relatively safe, otherwise."

Alfred's aching hand begged to differ, but he didn't say anything, considering that Elizaveta had just shed more light on this plant thing than he ever could have.

"So if it's native to the Narvid Sea, what's it doing here?" Ludwig asked the obvious question, and Elizaveta shrugged.

"Who knows. Like Yao said, a supply ship could've dropped it overboard. They're quite popular, actually, people like putting them in bowls of water at night. They have a soothing effect."

"It could've been a supply ship..." Alfred muttered, feeling himself slipping back into the dull existence that awaited him now that Arthur and his very purpose in life was gone. Just before he handed the spiky plant back to Elizaveta, however, an idea struck him that was so out of the blue that he was surprised nobody saw the lightning bolt flash down and hit him on the head.

He dropped the plant on the floor and ran over to the side of the _Freedom _once again, desperately trying to locate the place in which he first saw the little spiky devil. He scanned the water frantically, ignoring the inquiries as to whether he was okay. It took him a few moments, but he eventually saw another, and pointed it out.

"Look!" he yelled. Everyone obediently squinted in that direction, and, sure enough, there was another small purple glow, rolling with the waves, and, beyond that one, yet another. It was a bright day, so it was rather hard to see, but Alfred shielded his eyes with his hands and was soon able to see the evenly-spaced, if not rather raggedy, line that the little plants made up. It stretched outwards from the _Freedom, _heading for the centre of the Western Ocean, and Alfred was so convinced, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it was the trail of the _Red Bear_ that nobody, not even Francis, argued. Instead, they obeyed his orders, and began turning the ship to follow the track that some unnamed guardian angel had left.

* * *

Toris, shielded by Raivis and Eduard, glanced around nervously, and extended his arm. His fingers unclenched, and another spiky plant dropped from the _Red Bear_, splashing down into the water and starting to glow happily. Toris quickly screwed the lid of the jar back on and hid it in his jacket, turning away from the railings and trying to look as innocent as he could. It was lucky that he was in Ivan's favour, otherwise he might've been a prime suspect for this, if the Captain ever _did _find out this was happening. But he was beneath deck with Natalia and Katyusha, and hopefully, he wouldn't know until it was too late. The _Queen Elizabeth _was sailing next to them, a few metres ahead, so none of the pirates onboard had seen either. Ivan had returned control of the ship to the crewmembers who had been trapped in the brig, although they were, for the moment, without a captain or a first officer. Toris would normally be over there, but he had stayed with Raivis and Eduard, and Ivan hadn't protested. Anyone could run a ship without a chain of command, anyway, as long as everyone knew their jobs.

As they were walking away, Raivis looked up at Toris in a fleeting glance, and Toris could tell that he was scared. They had always stuck together, them and Eduard, the trio in Ivan's steel grip. But that would change now, because Ivan had finally met his match, and, although Toris was unwilling to admit it, that match was a WNO captain who might just be their saviour.

So he returned Raivis' glance, and smiled reassuringly.

* * *

Natalia's teeth were gritted and her gaze could've burnt a hole through steel, but Ivan just looked at her serenely.

"Why didn't you let me slit their throats?" she snarled at him, ignoring Katyusha's pleas for her to sit back down and stop shouting. "It would've been so much easier! The flagship of the WNO fleet, their crew, gone! We could've even towed the vessel back to the island and used it!"

Ivan raised his hand. "Please, Natalia, calm down, and I will explain."

Natalia crossed her arms stubbornly, and Ivan sighed. "I did not kill them," he began, with the air of someone who had never had to explain himself before and didn't like it very much, "because now their captain can run back to Striga and WNO headquarters and spread stories among the Generals. They need to know who we are and what we are capable of before we decimate them, do you understand. I wish you would stop s_econd-guessing me_!" He shot upwards, knocking his chair over, where it clattered to the floor. Towering over Natalia, blocking out the light streaming through the windows, Ivan looked much more threatening. "I thought I had reassured you before that I had the entire thing planned out, _sister_, and you promised to follow me. But here you are, talking to me like you no longer believe in our noble cause. Has your faith wavered?"

Natalia, speechless, could only shake her head desperately. There was a few seconds of silence, in which Ivan seemed to be deciding between murder and threats, but then Katyusha spoke.

"Brother," she said quietly. "Ivan, come and sit down. This will get you nowhere."

He seemed to deliberate for a moment, and then followed her advice, picking up his chair and collapsing in it. The dark bags underneath his eyes spoke of stress and tension and he didn't need to deal with Natalia's bloodlust right now.

Katyusha tried her best to change the subject. "Ivan, dear, where have you put Arthur?"

Ivan pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's chained up in the brig, and still unconscious. If he were awake, I would perform the ceremony right here, right now, but refuses to regain consciousness." He forced himself to calm down again. "He should wake up in an hour or so, though. I expect you two to be ready."

Natalia, eager to redeem herself, nodded. "Yes, of course, brother."

Just then, a chorus of shouts went up above deck. Thundering footsteps echoed in Ivan's cabin, which was followed, soon after, by a hasty knock at the door. Katyusha bid the arrival to come in – it was Raivis, panting, his eyes wide.

"A ship has been spotted on the horizon!" he gasped, clutching his stomach and doubling over. "I think it's the _Freedom_!"

Ivan's lips pulled back and he growled quietly, too tired to try and express his anger physically. Instead, the boiling emotion stayed coiled up in his chest, winding tighter every moment, like the trigger on a gun.

He didn't look up. "I must rest before I can use my magic again. Raivis, stand guard outside, I will _not _be disturbed." His tone left no room for argument. "Natalia, you will command the _Queen Elizabeth_, Katyusha, you will take control of the _Red Bear _until I am ready. Tell the crew to prepare."

* * *

The _Freedom _sped briskly along, its sails billowing, each meter bringing it closer to the two pirate ships in the distance. Natalia grabbed a rope hanging from the _Red Bear_ and swung over to the other vessel, calling the crew around and relaying Ivan's orders, making sure to emphasize the fact that she was most definitely in charge. The pirates looked at each other incredulously, but Natalia's relations with Ivan was enough to convince them to keep their mouths shut and not to protest.

As they got ready, loading pistols and stocking up on gunpowder, the _Queen Elizabeth _and the _Red Bear _turned a full 180 degrees, until they were directly facing the oncoming _Freedom. _The hammer-and-sickle flags fluttered proudly in the wind.

"We've got to take them by surprise," Alfred muttered, more to himself than to Francis, who was standing beside him and looking out across the water at the two enemy ships. "We'll fire the moment we come into range. And make sure they don't miss – we can't afford any mistakes."

Francis nodded smartly, compacting his telescope. "Yes, sir," he answered, and turned away to supervise the cannon fire. Alfred alternated staring between the _Red Bear _and the _Queen Elizabeth_, and wondered which one Arthur was on. It could be either one – these pirates were nothing if not unpredictable. He was more likely to be back on his own ship, but he might still be in captivity, for reasons unknown. Either way, Alfred was getting him back, no matter what the cost was. The _Freedom_'s crew might talk of revenge and duty, but this was more of a rescue mission than anything else, although Alfred would never have admitted it to anyone.

At the moment, screw the WNO, and anyone else who thought he should do his job. He was getting Arthur back, like it or not, and whatever came afterwards, well, he'd just have to deal with it.

Francis obeyed Alfred's orders to the letter. The moment the _Freedom _came into range of the _Red Bear_, it turned to the side and fired two of the rapid-fire cannons. The cannonballs embedded themselves into the side of the _Red Bear_, demolishing a few of their own cannons and turning wood into splinters. The _Queen Elizabeth _immediately advanced, taking advantage of the _Freedom_'s break for reloading, but then it seemed to stop, and lulled a little before it started firing. By then, the _Freedom _had spun around and let loose with the rest of its barrage, each cannonball slamming into the _Queen Elizabeth_'s hull, only a select few falling short.

The truth was, the crews onboard the two pirate vessels were unused to following orders given by women. Pirates were more old-fashioned than the WNO, determined on keeping the rules of the sea that had been created by sexist old men centuries ago, and with only a few changes. Ivan had changed the very core of tradition by allowing Natalia and Katyusha on the _Red Bear_, but giving them the command of a whole ship was a bit too much for the pirates to handle. They were slow to respond to Natalia and Katyusha's orders and even slower to recognize them, despite the imminent danger that the advancing WNO ship presented.

Natalia was absolutely furious, but no amount of screaming or foot-stomping could make them go faster. She'd had to explain to them in great detail why Ivan had sent her over before they would even load the cannons, and even then, it was too late. The entire ship rocked as the metal projectiles shot at them from the _Freedom _demolished a quarter of the structure, and injured quite a few of the crew. Katyusha was more wary, since Ivan was on the _Red Bear_, and she was determined to protect him. She'd been aware of Toris's plan with the spiky plants, but she hadn't approved, and it had taken an hour of Raivis begging to convince her not to say anything to Natalia or Ivan himself.

Alfred had organized everything before the battle. He'd split the crew of the _Freedom _up into three – one to stay onboard and continue reloading and firing the cannons, the second to board and search the _Queen Elizabeth_, and the third to do the same to the _Red Bear. _Each section had strict orders that if they saw Arthur, they were to bring him back alive, and without a scratch.

Alfred was in the second group, despite both Francis and Ludwig's protests that a captain should stay with his ship. He had drawn his sword and loaded his pistol, and was eager for blood. Leaving Francis on the _Freedom _– which he seemed to be doing a lot (leaving Francis places, he meant) and putting Ludwig in charge of the third group, he waited until Roderich had done some expert manoeuvring and brought the _Freedom _around to slide in between the two pirate ships. A few stray cannons fired from the _Queen Elizabeth_, but they weren't enough to do any major damage. The moment it was safe, Alfred and his group swung over Arthur's craft, immediately engaging the pirate crew that was lying in wait for them.

Natalia snarled at this sudden intrusion, and drew the daggers from her belt, spinning them in her hands and looking completely and utterly murderous, when something made her halt in her tracks. Her hair teased across her face as her expression went blank, before her eyes regained their focus and she glanced around, just in time to stop a sword descending down towards her face. She ducked and kicked the sailor in the stomach and pounced on him, slitting his throat, before leaping, monkey-like, up onto the mast and grabbing a rope.

Ivan's voice was reverberating in her mind, driving her towards one single, ultimate goal.

_Natalia, Katyusha, dear sisters, return to my cabin. I have regained my magic, and I am ready to perform the ceremony. Leave the WNO for the moment, and return. Return now. _

Alfred glanced around just in time to see Natalia's skirts billowing as she swung over to the _Red Bear_, deftly avoiding bullets and swords alike. She jumped from the _Queen Elizabeth_'s rope to the _Freedom_'s mast, shoving a man off the precarious wooden beam in her haste, before plummeting down onto the _Red Bear_ and joining her sister as they ran down below deck.

Katyusha turned at the last moment, surveying the fight before her with wide eyes, and something compelled Alfred to follow her. He wasn't sure what, but his instincts hadn't betrayed him yet, so he sheathed his sword and clumsily followed Natalia's path, with a lot less acrobatics and killing of the _Freedom_'s crew.

Luckily, his men were keeping the pirates busy on the _Red Bear_, so he was able to slip between them without any trouble. Descending down the stairs, trying to mask his footsteps with the noise coming from above, he found himself in a long, dark corridor, with doors set along the walls and the stench of a pirate ship. Only one room seemed to be occupied – at the end of the hallway, a flickering lantern light was shining out from underneath the wooden door, which was blown out a few seconds later. Alfred gritted his teeth, tightened his grip on his sword, and crept forwards.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Phew, almost there! Just the epilogue to go. :)**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

The wood underneath Alfred's boots creaked as he continued walking. His breath seemed weirdly loud in the constricted space, and he was sure that at any moment, a pirate was going to jump out and raise the alarm. But he got to the occupied room without any trouble, and halted for a moment, trying to catch his breath.

The door was ever-so-slightly ajar, something he hadn't been able to see from the end of the corridor. The lantern had been doused, but there was another light source coming from somewhere – either way, the details of the cabin were illuminated well enough for Alfred to see.

It was spacious, and decorated so lavishly that he wouldn't have been surprised if it belonged to a rich merchant. Fur cloaks were thrown over every available surface, indicating that the ship originated from somewhere cold, and there were paintings hung on the wall, each one depicting the _Red Bear_ someplace different – docking, sailing, or pillaging. They were rather impressive, but Alfred didn't spare them a moment. He was more interested in what was going on in the middle of the room.

Even as shouting and screaming and gunshots echoed overhead, the four in front of him were deadly silent. Arthur, his red coat gone, was bound with ropes and gagged with a piece of cloth and kneeling in the centre, everyone's attention focused on him. He was obviously conscious, judging from his movements, but he was restrained so tightly and so expertly that his struggles were in vain.

He was facing Ivan, who was, very literally, the light source. His entire frame was glowing, sending tendrils of light snaking into the deepest corners of the room. Natalia and Katyusha stood behind him, the leftover shadows masking their faces.

All Alfred wanted to do was get up and run for Arthur, but common sense told him to stay where he was, and to watch – now, here, was when all his questions would be answered, and he would get the confirmation he needed...that Arthur was under the control of someone else, and the pirate he'd fought all those weeks ago hadn't been the real him. He needed to pay attention.

He crouched down, trusting the darkness of the corridor to conceal him, and inched forwards until he could see every detail. Ivan reached into his coat and drew out a small knife, a little like a penknife, but longer and with a more intricately-decorated handle. He raised his left hand, and held the knife in his right, and pressed it to his palm, cutting into it and letting the blood drip down onto the carpet.

Natalia shifted uncomfortably, her eyes fixed on the crimson droplets.

Ivan, his eyes wide and his breathing erratic from keeping his magic up for so long, almost stumbled over his own feet as he dropped to the ground, directly opposite Arthur, who glared up at him in hate and renewed his resistance. Ivan held him still with his injured hand, the blood leaking out and staining Arthur's shirt, and used the knife to slit a small cut open on Arthur's bared chest. Arthur let out a few choked grunts as a bead of red slid down from the wound – not because it hurt, because all it really felt like was an oversized paper cut, but because he was scared. He was terrified. He had just started regaining his memories of what had truly happened while Ivan ruled him, and he was not prepared to be suddenly thrown into the dark again, and chained up, while the man opposite him took over his life and used his body for his own personal gains.

Ivan, shaking slightly, pressed his injured hand directly against Arthur's, the sudden pressure making the mingled blood leak out from between the contact. Arthur took in a shuddering breath, his eyes rolling back into his head, and he slumped sideways, Ivan moving to catch him quickly before he fell to the floor.

He cradled Arthur's head in his hands, seemingly able to ignore the pain from the slash on his hand, and hurriedly pulled off the gag, dropping it onto the floor. Katyusha darted forwards and picked it up, placing it gently on the desk beside her before retreating back to her place. Natalia was looking positively murderous as she observed the way Ivan held Arthur.

Then Arthur began to stir, his head moving back and forth in Ivan's grasp. The bigger man leant forwards, until their noses were almost touching, and, focusing harder, Alfred could see the look of desperation in those violet eyes. No matter what he said, what he did, Ivan needed Arthur now. Arthur was his last chance, and there was the weakness that Alfred had been unknowingly looking for. So they both relied on the blonde-haired pirate.

Well, then. May the best fighter win.

And just as Alfred thought these inspiring words, Arthur's eyelids fluttered, and a pure, unaltered purple light shone out, bathing Ivan's face in colour and illuminating his relieved smile.

Alfred had seen enough. He knew what was going on. There had been rumours – rumours he'd never listened to, never even believed in, but rumours nonetheless – circulating around the WNO lately that the pirates had been dabbling in black magic for some time now. It was obvious that whatever hold Ivan had over Arthur was through some sort of supernatural means, and from what Alfred could gather, Arthur had some enchantments of his own as well.

And he was okay with that, he was ready for battle, his nerves were calm and clear and he was remembering every single tactic he'd been taught in training –

Before Ivan had leant in and kissed Arthur passionately, his lips covering Arthur's own, affectionately stroking his blonde locks, and _Arthur raised his hand to Ivan's cheek and reciprocated. _

Alfred's vision tunnelled in on Ivan and became tinted a violent, hideous red, and a dragon awoke in the captain's chest and roared for satisfaction, and so Alfred drew his sword and barged into the room, yelling like a madman.

Before he could reach Ivan or even Arthur, Natalia intercepted him, the fury she felt at seeing her brother's attentions focused on someone else right in front of her letting themselves be seen in the heat of battle. She drew the two daggers sheathed in her belt and they met Alfred's rapier, the clash of metal accompanied by a shower of sparks.

As Alfred tried to throw Natalia off and Natalia remained stubbornly in front of Ivan and Arthur, who were still recovering, Katyusha ran behind the desk and pulled an axe off the wall, the weight of it pulling her arms down for a moment before she summoned all her strength and joined in the battle. Alfred, despite his determination to get to Arthur, was beaten back by the double attack, and was barely stopping himself from being skewered through with the formidable weapons the two women wielded. Letting out a scream of frustration, he darted out the door and took off down the corridor, narrowly avoiding being pinned to the wall by the axe Katyusha had just thrown.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he emerged out into the open, where the fight between the pirates and the WNO officers was still raging. Ludwig was by his side in an instant, his keen eyes having spotted his captain the moment Alfred set foot on the deck. Yao also swung down, just after impaling a particularly nasty-looking pirate on his blade, and took up an attack posture.

Natalia and Katyusha burst out from the depths of the _Red Bear _seconds after Alfred did, their eyes narrowed in anger and the lust for violence. Yao leapt forwards and engaged Natalia, while Ludwig, the biggest of the three, went for Katyusha and her unwieldy weapon.

Alfred took a moment to glance around and assess the situation. Most of the pirates had been beaten, thanks to his scrappy crewmembers, and Natalia and Katyusha had their work cut out for them with Yao and Ludwig on the case, but just then, surfacing like demons from hell, Arthur and Ivan appeared to materialize out of nowhere, fully armed and ready for battle.

Seeing their two captains back in action, the pirates' spirits were rallied, and they attacked with renewed vigour, two even going so far as to recognize the captain's insignia on Alfred's coat and pouncing gleefully on him.

Rain began to patter down onto the decks of the three war-torn ships. The sky was a dark, bruise-like purple and the sea began to shift uneasily, causing many a man to lose their footing to the power of the waves.

Ivan gripped Arthur's shoulder and spun him around. "Get to Alfred. Go, now."

Arthur nodded silently, his mind completely taken over, and Ivan could feel the strength of their bond in the back of his brain, a strength that would give Arthur the edge he needed to fight Alfred and defeat him. He ran forwards, but at that moment, Ludwig, who had overheard Ivan's instructions, signalled to any and all available crewmembers and pointed at Arthur. He was abruptly assaulted from all directions, every single attacker determined that he would not get to their beloved captain, who had, by now, defeated the two pirates foolish enough to challenge him, and was looking around for the only adversary that mattered.

Captain Ivan Braginski.

Arthur snarled and drew his sword, firing a pistol with the other hand, but whenever he cut down one man, another took his place. Ivan could sense his frenzy to obey his orders, and sent a calming pulse through their connection, reassuring Arthur that he would take care of Alfred himself and that he could do the finishing honour when he had escaped the WNO sailors – plunging his sword into Alfred's heart and killing him in the most painful way possible.

Ivan strode forwards, pushing both WNO crew and pirates aside alike, until he and Alfred were face to face for the very first time. Justice and chaos, their first meeting, and likely to be their last.

Alfred, his memories of what had occurred below deck still very fresh in his mind, flexed the fingers around his sword and _attacked_.

They battled onboard the _Red Bear_, surrounded by foes and friends alike, their swords flashing and each one wishing a horrific death upon the other. They battled like it was the only thing left, the only thing that mattered, and it was – it was the result of all the blood and sweat and tears and broken hearts and disobeyed rules and sense of right. It was the final fight, the one that _decided_, and neither one of them was prepared to go down without inflicting some mortal wound on the other. In fact, neither of them was prepared to go down at all, and if it weren't for the vital fact that they were mortal, they would've struggled with each other until Armageddon came, and the Earth dissolved into a fiery mess, and there was nothing left to fight for.

But there was a turning point, and the key was to recognize it.

Toris, Eduard and Raivis had already surrendered, and were being held at gunpoint on the _Freedom _while Francis pretended to decide what to do with them but really stalled for time until Alfred returned so he wouldn't have to make the hard choices. Most of the pirate crew were defeated, their strategy of 'just plunge in and kill the bastards' not as effective against the crew of the WNO's flagship than they had originally thought.

Katyusha was tiring quickly, the axe a dead weight in her arms that she couldn't afford to keep using. As Ludwig renewed his attack, she dropped her weapon and raised her arms, collapsing to her knees as she finally gave into her fate.

Ivan heard her screams of surrender, her pleas for Ludwig not to kill her, and felt angry. He knew that Natalia would never submit, not while he was still fighting, but he had never thought Katyusha capable of such a betrayal. He channelled his emotions and sent them through to her, via their weak but fully operational telepathic link, and Katyusha shrieked in pain as tears coursed down her cheeks, but the torrent of anger, fury and raw hurt was soon cut off. Ivan couldn't afford to do that and fight Alfred at the same time. It would cost him his concentration, and that, in turn, would cost him his life.

It took the combined efforts of Yao, Vash, Elizaveta and Honda to take Natalia down, but they finally accomplished it. She was restrained and given the option of surrender, but, with fire in her eyes and venom in her voice, she refused, spitting out curses and continuously kicking out at her captors while trying to retrieve her weapons.

Ludwig, his voice hollow, ordered, "Kill her."

A quick twist of Honda's sword and it was done. Natalia fell to the deck, her eyes widening as the life left her body, blood draining out of the slit across her neck. Her arms twitched a few times, and the sticky liquid gurgled in her mouth as she tried to beg for help. She died with Ivan's name on her lips.

Although he wasn't looking towards her as she was killed, Ivan felt their union become dull and finally dissolve, Natalia's last thoughts disappearing like leaves on the wind. He never thought he'd feel anything intense when she finally died, hopefully in the line of duty, but suddenly there was an empty spot in his heart, and he wished with all his broken soul that she was still living, and still fighting, and still beside him.

He bellowed in anger and loss, breaking off the fight with Alfred for a split second, and in the torrent of all his passions crashing down around him, he made a mistake, and Alfred seized his chance.

As their swords met for what seemed like the thousandth time, Alfred disarmed Ivan with a few quick strokes, finally able to put the move he'd been practising for ages into action. The weapon flew out of Ivan's grip, his fingers suddenly grasping empty air. He was thrown, for a moment, that this rookie could even attempt something as stupid as attempting to neutralize him, and then he realized that it _had actually worked, and he was weapon-less_ and then Alfred's sword was buried in his chest.

_Ivan did not expect death to hurt._

_He had imagined it countless times, but now it was here, he was caught off-guard by how hard it hit him and how painful it actually was._

_He felt the tip of the metal prod his heart and he crumpled, turning in on himself, feeling his grip on the here and now being loosened by some invisible entity. He wanted to _stay, _he wanted to _fight_, he wanted to see Alfred's reaction when he defeated him and claimed Arthur for his own, but now his brain was slowly being wiped clean, and all raging thoughts were disappearing into the unknown, and his soul, his very being, was following..._

The hilt of the sword was torn out of Alfred's shaking, adrenaline-wracked hands as Ivan fell to the side and became still, his last expression frozen on his pale face as those haunting, violet eyes finally lost their murderous shine and became lifeless.

Alfred stared down at the body of the pirate captain, and felt absolutely nothing, even as the rain started to pound down and thunder cracked above, as if nature itself was mourning Ivan's death.

Arthur, who was being held back by Ludwig and the others, suddenly convulsed, letting out a strangled scream of agony, and fell to his knees, his fingers tearing at his scalp as if he wanted to reach in and pull the pain out with his bare hands.

Alfred hurried forwards, squashing the initial joy at seeing Arthur again down and saving it for later. His legs almost gave out on the way, and whenever he closed his eyes he felt like he was drifting away into unconsciousness, but he made it, and knelt down beside Arthur. The pirate's eyes were closed, and his thrashing slowly ceased, although what was going on, Alfred had no idea. His crewmates were silent as he bent over Arthur, desperately caressing his cheeks, trying to call him back.

His spare hand groped for Arthur's wrist, and pressed against the visible veins, feeling a sickening jolt in his stomach as he searched for a non-existent pulse.

_No. No, please, he can't be dead, not after all this. I found him! I defeated Ivan, I saved him! Don't let him be dead, _please _don't let him be dead!_

Alfred's tears mixed with the rainwater streaming down his face and his sodden hair as he began to sob aloud, not caring who was watching, only that the only person who he had ever fallen in love with had departed without him, and wasn't coming back.

"Arthur...Arthur..." he mumbled, his throat constricting with every sound that spilled from his lips. He pressed his forehead against the other's, and wanted to stay there forever, just blocking out everything that came from the real world and focusing solely on the beautiful person beneath him.

Suddenly, Arthur's pulse soared, beating insistently against Alfred's fingers, which were still pressed to the pirate's wrist. Alfred's eyes flew open in shock, and he felt Arthur stirring, and he was so wonderfully, energetically _alive _that Alfred wanted to kiss him right there and laugh and scream and shout and cry because everything was going to be alright.

Arthur's eyes flew open, and he jerked upright, his spine shouting in protest. He was breathing hard, and it was easy to tell that he felt lost, and confused, but one look at Alfred's face and his expression blossomed into recognition, love, relief and a fiery passion that only Arthur was capable of.

And his eyes...oh, his eyes. His eyes were the purest, most vivid green that Alfred had ever seen, a kind of green that he could stare at forever, that reminded him of mossy forests and gleaming emeralds and everything that was wonderful in the universe.

"You're okay," he whispered, one arm around Arthur's waist, the other pressed against his cheek, feeling the warmth and energy that Arthur radiated. "You're alright..."

"Alfred..." Arthur breathed, and his tears joined the other man's as they melted into each other's arms, safe and sound, all foes defeated, and with an entire world at their feet.


	11. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

So now he had _three _ships, sitting dutifully in the middle of the Western Ocean, and Alfred wasn't sure what to do with them.

The _Queen Elizabeth_ went back to Arthur, of course, but with his former crew either dead or in custody, there weren't many places he could go. All the _Freedom _needed was a paintjob and some repairs, which they could get back at WNO Headquarters, but the other two vessels were in a much worse state, and, being pirate ships, they didn't have anywhere they could go to get patched up that didn't ask for inordinate amounts of money and wasn't unbelievably illegal.

The _Red Bear _would go to the Generals, that much was obvious, and Alfred planned to have the members of his crew who didn't want to stay with him take it and their pirate prisoners back to Striga.

Because he wasn't going back. He wasn't going to become a fully-fledged pirate and start breaking the law left, right and centre, but he couldn't return to that world of regulations and uniforms and boring patrols. He didn't want to disappoint his mother, who'd stuck by him thick and thin, or Matthew, whose entire life consisted of the WNO, but the lure of Arthur and the open, unexplored oceans were too much to resist.

They could find another crew, somewhere. Perhaps up in Lementor, or down in Jamar, there must be some willing and able-bodied sailors who could take a little manual labour.

Alfred stared at the wall in his cabin and sighed. Arthur was on the _Queen Elizabeth_, looking her over and judging what needed to be replaced and what could be done away with altogether. He'd left all the decisions up to Alfred, which was considerate of him, but it just meant that there was that much more responsibility on Alfred's shoulders.

Well, of course he'd tell the crew, and he'd offer them the decision to either go back or come with him, but he didn't know how many would choose the latter. He didn't want to see them go – they were the best, most loyal sailors a captain could ask for, and he wanted them beside him as much as he wanted Arthur. But it was _their _careers, not his, and he wanted to fully respect their decision, whatever it might be.

So, that day, he gathered them all on the deck of the _Freedom_, and told them what he intended to do. He had expected gasps of shock, pleas for him not to do it, reasons and excuses for them to get off the ship as quick as possible and the silent treatment for the rest of the time they were together, but there was only silence.

Just silence, in which they all looked up at him, their expressions incomprehensible, and he felt like such a horrible person for abandoning them.

Then, Francis stepped up, took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and slapped Alfred right across the face.

Alfred stumbled backwards, a stinging pain reverberating around his jaw, and raised his hand to cradle it while staring at Francis with a hurt look in his eyes. Francis was perfectly composed, but behind him, Ludwig started to snicker, which he had never done in all the years Alfred had known him.

"What was that for?" Alfred demanded, straightening up.

"You idiot." Francis tutted contemptuously. "_Of course_ we're coming with you."

Alfred's mouth dropped. "Wha – what?"

Ludwig took a few steps forward and nudged Francis with his elbow. "Not the brightest, is he?" he muttered, still trying to conceal his obvious amusement.

"Do you think we want to return to WNO Headquarters, give a report, be reassigned and patrol the edge of Guardia for the rest of our lives?" Francis crossed his arms. "Not likely, Alfred, not while you're off having adventures. We signed up to have the time of our lives, because we loved the sea and we wanted to be with it, and the past few weeks were amazing. They were the highlight of my life, and I'll bet they were the highlight of everyone else's too." There was a resounding ripple of agreement through the crew, everyone either nodding their heads vigorously or adding their own comments in an undertone to their neighbours. "And – don't let this go to your head – but you're the best captain I've ever had. I am _not _going to let you waltz off into the sunset with your boyfriend while I go back to a dull existence."

Arthur, from where he was leaning against the mast, stuck his tongue out at the other man. He had taken an instant disliking to Francis, for reasons unknown, but they occasionally got along, mostly when they were ribbing Alfred.

"Well, yeah, but..." Alfred rubbing his throbbing cheek. "Did you have to punch me to prove your point?" His beaming smile, however, told everyone he was the complete opposite of irritated.

So they were coming with him. Every single one of them – nobody wanted to return to the Generals or Striga. Feliciano, Honda, Elizaveta, Roderich, Vash, Yao – they had all survived the pirates, and those who hadn't were honoured and missed and remembered with dignity and honour.

There was still the matter of returning their captives to Striga, though, but luckily the solution to that came in the form of three unexpected pirates. Arthur remembered Toris, Raivis and Eduard as being quiet, respectful, and not at all people who'd he'd expected to see under Ivan's control. He trusted them, and once Alfred had listened to Toris explaining how he'd used the spiky plants to leave an inconspicuous trail for them to follow, he decided to follow Arthur's judgement. He wrote the Generals a letter, explaining what had happened and, especially, that the three now in command of the _Red Bear_ were not pirates, but survivors of a shipwreck who needed a place to stay and had agreed to make the journey back to the WNO.

So Toris, Raivis and Eduard took Ivan's ship, with their crewmates still down in the brig and screaming to be let out, and set sail for Striga.

A few nights later, Arthur, who had fallen asleep to the sound of the wind whistling through the sails and the gentle thudding of hammers, hard at late-night work, woke with a start, his head spinning. Alfred wasn't with him, which wasn't unexpected, as he often stayed up to supervise the ongoing maintenance, so he pulled his legs up to his chest, rested his chin on his knees and simply thought. He had everything now – the missing puzzle pieces, and he knew that Alfred would want to hear about it. He deserved to, after all.

Pulling on his boots and deciding that it was warm enough to leave his coat where it was, Arthur left the cabin and went in search of the other captain. He found him soon enough, leaning against the _Freedom_'s railing and chatting idly to Roderich, who was seated on top of a pile of crates and was tuning a violin. Arthur blinked in surprise. He hadn't known that Roderich – or anyone else in the crew, for that matter – could play a musical instrument, but, to be fair, the past few weeks had hardly been the time for music. He liked music, though, despite the fact that he didn't listen to it often. Classical music, mostly, played with exactly the type of instrument that Roderich was currently holding. He was strangely old-fashioned in his various tastes, despite his young age.

Taking a step forward, he cleared his throat and hid his hands behind his back. Alfred turned to look at him, did a double-take, and straightened quickly, nervously running a hand through his already-unruly hair. Arthur hid a smile. Alfred was adorable when he was like this, but of course he resented being told this, and Arthur had to keep it to himself.

"Uh...hey," he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't say anything else, but just kept doing it, until Arthur darted forward and placed his hands firmly on Alfred's wide shoulders.

"Okay, stop that," he told him, and Roderich laughed. "Are you busy? It can wait."

Alfred half-glanced towards the brunette behind him. "Him? Oh, he's not – no, actually, I was hoping you would show up."

Arthur tilted his head. "Why?"

Alfred grinned. "Well, it's a beautiful night, everything is right in the universe, we're the only two for miles – not counting the rest of the crew – and we have some background music. Do you want to dance?"

"D-dance?" Arthur stuttered – this was _not _what he had been expecting. "W-why?"

Alfred shrugged, his initial nervousness gone now that he had gotten it out. "I don't know. Because we can?"

"I don't know how to dance," Arthur whispered, sounding scandalized.

Alfred waved this away. "I'm not asking you to do the tango, baby," he answered, the fond nickname he had adopted only a day or so ago slipping out seamlessly. "We can just dance."

Holding out his hand, he waited. Behind him, Roderich picked up the violin bow and laid it gently against the strings, his eyes on Arthur, patiently holding off the first note.

Arthur hesitantly raised his own hand and slipped it into Alfred's. Suddenly, he was being pulled away, forced to use his own feet to do some ridiculous waltz, Alfred clutching his waist and his own arm inexplicably around Alfred's own shoulders.

Roderich began playing, and he was truly an expert. The violin must've been expensive, and it sounded amazing, but it was mostly the way he used the bow – he didn't use it roughly, he didn't scrape it across the strings, but he caressed them, as if he was breathing compliments to them, encouraging them to give up their musical notes. The sweet sounds floated around the deck, around the _Freedom_, and swirled around the couple currently doing their best to move in sync.

Arthur was embarrassed, at first. Dancing wasn't his thing, and he was tensed up in order to leap away from Alfred in case someone other than their musician saw them. But as he got into it, and let the music carry him away, he found it easier, and willingly joined in when Alfred began to move faster.

He glanced up, and found his breath taken away by the sheer happiness that was evident in Alfred's expression. The other man's pleasure was seeping into him, making this activity seem more fun that he had thought it would be. Perhaps, though, with Alfred, everything was more fun.

"Did you want to tell me something?" Arthur started, and stared at his partner in confusion, before he realised that it _was_ Alfred who had spoken.

"What? Oh, yes! Yes, I remembered everything," Arthur began, angrily chasing the blush from his cheeks. "It took a while, but I managed to piece everything together. Ivan was amassing a huge fleet in the Narvid Sea, on a small island that he found and named after himself. Pirates from all over the world were coming to join him, myself included, and we travelled so silently that even the WNO didn't detect our presence. When there were enough ships there, Ivan planned to launch an all-out assault against WNO Headquarters. The use of his and my ships was just to throw you off, to make you think that there were fewer operatives than there actually were." He took his hand out of Alfred's for a moment to tap his temple. "Whenever his control over me weakened, my brain didn't know whether to wait for him to re-establish contact or just go back to possessing my body for itself, so I was often rather confused." He ducked his head and offered Alfred a small smile. "No doubt you weren't sure what was going on, and neither was I, but it all makes sense now."

Alfred was silent for a while, so long that Arthur began to wonder if he should regret having said anything. But just before he was going to ask if everything was alright, his partner spoke: "Why you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did he choose you? I mean, if all this about a fleet in the Narvid Sea is true, then he must've had loads of captains to pick from. What made you so special?"

Arthur hesitated, and squeaked as Alfred dipped him down and then yanked him back up. "Well, I guess, from my own knowledge of geography, my expertise in handling a ship, and...I have some magic of my own. Whenever he renewed the bond between us, some of that magic transferred over from me and made his hold stronger."

"Magic?" Alfred sounded slightly disbelieving, and Arthur found it hard to blame him.

"Magic," he confirmed, grimacing. "Passed down through my family, until all I have are a few spells that aren't much good to anyone. But Ivan's been using black magic to build up his store, taking enchantments from the next world and introducing them to this one, which is dangerous, to say the least, but he was the most dangerous thing around."

Suddenly, Alfred tightened his grip on Arthur's waist and pulled him closer, crushing their lips together in a strangely dominant kiss. Arthur froze, surprised and more than a little unsure of what to do, and was just hesitantly about to respond when Alfred retreated, his cerulean eyes harder than diamonds.

"W-what was that for?" Arthur stammered.

"He kissed you," Alfred replied fiercely, and Arthur didn't know what to tell him. "I wanted to get the influence of him off you."

Arthur blinked slowly, and then reached up to grip the back of Alfred's neck, yanking him down for another kiss, this one lingering and passionate and softer than the first had been. When he pulled away, safe and warm in Alfred's possessive embrace, Arthur laid his head on the other's shoulder, hearing the faint _thump-thump-thump _of Alfred's heart and letting it soothe him.

* * *

It took a week and a few days of hard work, but eventually the _Queen Elizabeth _was sea-worthy. Going to a WNO port for repairs would've meant certain detention and maybe even arrest, so they had to do the best with what they had. By then, Arthur had made his decision. As much as he loved his vessel, and appreciated how it had sheltered him through storms and battles, he knew that the _Freedom _was much too precious to Alfred for him to give it up in favour of a pirate ship. Plus, the crew, the only crew they had, was accustomed to the place they'd worked in, and he couldn't just yank them out of a familiar environment and thrust them into an unfamiliar one.

"Where are we going?" he had asked Alfred one night, lying against the other captain's chest, marking a cross on the map that Alfred was holding up – a cross that marked the exact coordinates of Ivan's island in the Narvid Sea. Alfred had shifted underneath him and smiled.

"Why don't we see about that pirate fleet that Ivan had hidden away?" he had suggested, and Arthur had grinned in silent agreement. Now, he was standing on the _Queen Elizabeth_'s deck, his fingers absent-mindedly but gently caressing the mast, the railings, and lingering on the spokes of the wheel.

"She's a beautiful ship," Alfred commented, waiting patiently as Arthur said goodbye. The pirate nodded once. "She is," he answered quietly. "She was my father's. It doesn't feel right to leave her behind."

Alfred walked over and slung an arm over Arthur's shoulders, forgetting, for a moment, that he was a lot heavier than his lover. "We won't leave her. We'll tow her somewhere safe, somewhere she can rest, and then you can come visit her."

Arthur shoved Alfred's arm off and then looked up at him hopefully. "Really?"

"Of course! I wouldn't ask you to say goodbye now! Heroes don't make people do that."

The green-eyed man rolled his eyes, extremely familiar with Alfred's tendancy to refer to himself as the hero, or, occasionally, 'awesome'.

A glint of gold caught his eye, sparkling on the collar of Alfred's coat, and he turned his body fully to look at it. "What's that?"

Alfred glanced down, with the air of someone trying to be casual but betraying the fact that this was something that they'd given a lot of thought to over the past few days. He reached up, and plucked the WNO captain's insignia off his uniform, the gold tarnished by smoke and dirt produced by the many battles it had seen.

"What are you going to do with it?" Arthur asked carefully. Alfred didn't reply – instead, he studied it for a while, turning it over and over in his palm, stroking the sides with his fingers, holding it up to the sun. And finally, he curled his arm in and threw it overboard, turning away as it splashed into the water and was gone forever.

Arthur stared at him in sympathy, and said nothing. For a moment, Alfred's expression betrayed everything he was feeling – guilt, sadness, shame, uncertainty, and hope. Slipping his hand into his partner's, Arthur squeezed Alfred's fingers, and when Alfred turned to look at him, all those feelings were gone and there was simple, unbridled joy.

"Arthur Kirkland," he began, drawing Arthur closer and planting a messy kiss on his cheek, to which Arthur grunted and tried to swat him away. "Show me what it's like to be a pirate."

**The End**


End file.
